


Can't You Stay?

by lyssawolf



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Bartender Liam, Basically this is an excuse for me to compare Louis to sunshine 5 billion kajillion times, Because Louis is Harry's sunshine, Depression, Frat Boy Niall Except Minus The Frat, I hope you enjoy it, I think we all agree with that, M/M, Pill Abuse, Romantic Harry, Stripper Louis, Stripper Zayn, Unfinished, Ziam's in here somewhere... soon, but still cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:19:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3360794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyssawolf/pseuds/lyssawolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey," Louis said softly. </p><p>"Hey," he replied, equally fond. His mind was an absolute mess right now, as if Louis had taken his pretty hand and smeared all Harry's thoughts into a multicolored finger painting. And Harry, like the stupid romantic he was, looked at it and called it magnificent art.<br/>---<br/>The one where Harry's glad he finally owns up to his sexuality, because otherwise he would not have met Louis. Or, Louis strips and Harry falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Really need to start finishing the stories I start tbh. Title from The Fall by Rhye.
> 
> OKAY, from now on I will be updating this every Saturday because I need to keep myself on track for real. So if anyone is following this, every Saturday you will get a treat. Also I'm pretty sure I'm gonna start chaptering this because just no. SO, thanks for whoever is supporting this, love you, stick with me please this is difficult.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tells Niall something important. Niall takes him somewhere equally important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here is the first lovely chapter of this mess! IF you're reading, I hope you enjoy it. It is all over the place but I still love it. Thanks so so so much for being there, if you are! Also, this first part is a bit dirty, but fun. Enjoy loves xx

He took a deep breath in and slowly let it hiss out his nose. He knew he needed to do this, but he couldn't help being scared. He didn't want his best friend to push him away. He'd been pushed away by enough people. With his hands laced together, he began scratching a knuckle with the nail on his index finger. Red bloomed on the spot, and he watched it grow as his heart beat in his throat in time with the nearby clock. Niall usually returned home by about 5. It was 4:57. Harry pulled that knuckle to his mouth and bit down on it, the quiet pain doing little to still his shivering nerves. In the background the TV was tuned to a rerun of Doctor Who, and rain pattered softly against the windowpane. The drizzle had been falling all day, and Harry thought it was perhaps a reflection of his mood. He'd been planning this talk for weeks-- scratch that, for _years_. At least since he'd met Niall, and he'd only been a middle-schooler when he'd first been introduced to the Irish lad.

Memories began to flood back uninvited--

_He was sitting morosely on a bench outside the office, sulking after another beating (he'd been bullied a lot in school), when someone else plopped down beside him. He glanced over to see a ruddy-faced blonde boy, leaning against the wall with their legs casually crossed at the ankles. "What're you in for?" the boy spoke, and Harry almost giggled at the thickness of his accent._

_"I got beat up," Harry replied quietly, embarrassed._

_The blonde boy nodded, "Me too."_

_"Really?" Harry replied, turning his head to give a surprised look._

_Sparkling blue eyes grinned back, "But I beat them up back. The name's Niall. You should stick with me. I've got a good punch." With that he threw his arm around Harry's shoulders, and Harry had never felt more safe in his life._

Suddenly, back in the present, the locks began to click in the door, knocking Harry out of his thoughts and into panic-area. He realized no matter how long he'd planned this, he still wasn't prepared. He stared wide-eyed at the turning doorknob, chewing vigorously on his own skin and bone. The door blew open with a bang as Niall swept his way in, cursing and throwing off his jacket. Harry felt a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. That was one thing he loved about Niall-- he was an absolute whirlwind, crashing through and destroying not only glasses and full pizza boxes, but also any unhappiness filling the room. He'd been that way all his life, putting his own family through hell for years, but they loved him for it. Harry felt the same as they did.

"Shit, Haz," he barked, his voice still thick with Irish accent, "That rain is a wanker!"

"It's barely falling, Niall," Harry chuckled, putting his chin in his hand and watching the blonde boy scurry into the kitchen, rubbing his pale hands together as if to warm them.

"Still will soak ye through though!" Niall called in reply, and Harry heard the sound of the fridge opening.

"Beer's behind the milk," Harry suggested.

"Ah, thanks mate," was the answer. Harry smirked. Perhaps he knew his best friend too well. Then again, Niall had always been a big fan of alcohol. He was the one in secondary school that snuck it into the parties. Always the rebel. Harry still would struggle to understand how he'd never been caught.

Niall rushed back into the small family room and dropped dramatically onto the couch where Harry was sat, letting his torso fall heavily on the taller boy as he took a healthy swig from the bottle in his hand.

"Work was such shit, Haz," he whined, pushing against Harry's body so Harry was forced to crumple into himself, "No rest for the weary. No rest at all." He gulped more alcohol down, and Harry laughed softly, but with Niall finally settled he was feeling the nerves again. He watched Niall wipe his mouth and sigh, crossing his legs.

"So what's up lad? How was your day?" he asked, tipping his beer bottle and casually reading the label.

Harry began to wring his hands, and hedged a, "It was fine..." 

Harry felt Niall stiffen a little against him, and then he sat up, turning to face his curly-haired roommate with narrowed eyes, "'Fine'? Alright, spit it. I knew something was up by that fuckin' Bambi look you gave me as I walked in."

Harry swallowed hard and was quiet for a while. Doctor Who was still babbling. The rain was still pattering. He wished it could stay this peaceful. He didn't want was about to come next.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, then shifted in his seat to face Niall, "Look mate... I've been meaning to tell you something for a while. And I know I should've told you when we first became friends, or when we decided to room together, but I just... most of the time, it was hard to admit it to myself. And I hope this doesn't change our friendship, I hope that you can still feel comfortable enough around me to play Fifa in your boxers and bring me my towel when I'm showering and I forget it and-"

"You in love with me, mate?" Niall cut in, his lips playing up into a smirk.

Harry paused in surprise, then began to splutter and scoff, "No, no no, hell no, I mean, not that you aren't a good looking bloke, but-- well, what I mean is-- it's like this-"

"I was joking, Haz," Niall interrupted again, but this time his eyes were soft, "Seriously though, just let it out already."

Harry pursed his lips, then looked at his hands, "I... I'm bi. At least I think I am. Pretty sure." Harry didn't look up, but he felt Niall's eyes burning into his scalp. _This is it,_  he thought, _This is when he spits on me and leaves. This is when he realizes how much of a mistake I am. This is when I lose my best friend all over again._

The room once more filled with background noise, white noise that was suddenly no longer calming, but agonizing. Harry wanted to jump right out that tiny window. He was sure the pain of the glass in his skin would be preferable to this awful suspense. His mind went at top speed through all the possible reactions that could happen. Through reactions he'd received before. His stomach clenched in fear.

Then suddenly the silence was broken with "What the fuck." Louder, "What the fuck? Mate, you serious?"

Harry buried his face in his hands and mumbled, "I'm so sorry Ni, I don't expect you to stay--"

"You think I didn't know? You think all this time I didn't know you were as fruity as a goddamn apple pie?" Niall hollered, then burst into harsh, raspy peals of laughter. Harry peeked at the boy through his fingers, his heart doing uncomfortable somersaults, unsure if Niall was being serious. He was doubled over, tears pouring down his cheeks and dripping from his chin to his jeans.

"Oh god Haz," he gasped, wiping at his lashes, "Oh, oh god. I can't believe... you wore headscarves for a year for god's sake! You own a pair of bloody _glitter boots!_ " Harry felt a giggle bubble out of his mouth, then joined into the hilarity full on, his chest shaking and his hands clutching at his stomach. Tears rolled out his eyes, but he was glad they weren't unhappy. He had been expecting the worst, but now that he thought about it, why would Niall not accept him? Niall accepted everyone. Niall was a sun of love, shining on all those in reach of his rays, and Harry just happened to be one of the warmest. He glanced over to see Niall lying prone on the couch, nearly kicking Harry's face with his swinging feet. Harry was draped over the arm, ignoring how it dug into the most painful part of his back. They stayed like that for a while, almost stopping a couple times but finding it impossible to when Niall couldn't help falling right back into his cackling. When they finally were able to calm themselves, they both stared placidly at the ceiling, breathing heavily and grinning.

"You know what this means though, right?" Niall spoke, his voice spiked with mischief, "Since you finally accepted your gay ways?"

Harry snorted, shoving his foot against Niall's side, "I'd already accepted them, you dick."

"Not if you had to wait this long to tell your own, obviously very observant, best mate," Niall scolded, "Also, you didn't answer my question."

Harry sighed, but it was a happy, relieved sigh. Everything had turned out okay. He closed his eyes and smiled.

"Alright, what does it mean?" he asked, trying to sound uninterested and annoyed, but failing terribly.

"It means we have to celebrate," Niall said matter-of-factly, "Have a 'coming out' party."

Harry almost laughed again, but his stomach still hurt too much, "Alright then, go grab me a beer and we'll drink till we pass out."

"No!" Niall protested, sitting up quickly. From the grimace that came to his face, Harry could tell he regretted the movement, but he continued his argument anyway, "No, that's boring. Sitting here and drinking in our cramped little dorm. Boring as hell. But drinking till we pass out in a club? Now that's celebrating mate."

"Oh no, no," Harry waved a hand, "I don't feel like going out. I'm too tired."

"Oh," Niall replied. It returned to quiet again, and Harry thought he'd subdued his stubborn friend, but then a hand painfully clenched his and ripped him up off the couch.

"Too bad," Niall smirked into his face, and proceeded to drag Harry to the bedrooms down the short hallway of their dorm.

"Wait, no! Niall please!" Harry tugged at Niall's vice grip, a sudden sharp anxiety filling him as he imagined a too-full club, bodies rubbing up against him unwanted. He had to swallow his nausea. 

"Stop crying. I'm doing this for your sorry ass. Now get in there and find some nice clothes to wear. That button-up looks like the rag I clean the counters with," Niall said in a motherly voice, shoving Harry into his bedroom. He smirked at Harry's pout before saying, "Trust me, you'll thank me later," and slamming the door shut.

\---

"What is this?" Harry frowned, staring up at the flashing neon sign above them. 

"It's a club. C'mon, stop being such a pussy," Niall kept walking, passing Harry to stand under the overhang, out of the rain.

Harry frowned more, "What kind of club? I don't recognize this. This isn't the one we usually go to." 

"Well this is the one we're going to tonight. Just get your ass in here, alright? It's fuckin' cold," to prove his point, he began to vigorously rub his hands together. 

Now Harry's brow was furrowed, but he followed the blonde boy past the sign and into the darkened building. He was immediately slammed by bass blasting from all corners, and multi-colored lights streaming wildly across faces and half-full glasses. Harry blinked rapidly, his eyes working to adjust to the dimness. Niall shoved his way to the bar, pulling Harry along with him, shouting, "Ey! Lay out a couple of pints, yeah? We're having a celebration!" 

"Join the club!" someone shouted, then drunken laughter followed. Harry cringed a bit. A bright green light swept across his eyes and blinded him for a few seconds, so he let his eyelids fall shut. He wished he hadn't let Niall drag him here. He'd really rather be sleeping right now. 

When they reached the bar, two cold pints were waiting. "Drink up!" Niall bellowed over the heavy thrum, and tossed his mug back.

Harry laughed, "You drink like a horse." 

"Well you look like one!" Came the reply, but it wasn't malicious. In fact, Niall was grinning as he called for another, dropping his empty mug back onto the smooth wood of the bar, "Fortunately, most of these guys will disagree with me." 

Confused, Harry finally glanced around. His eyes bugged. There were men filling the room from wall to wall, most of them grinding to the music or sucking down alcohol, a few chatting brightly or snogging in the dark corners. Men.  _All men_. Harry swallowed hard. Most of them were very good looking. 

"You brought me to a gay bar," it was not a question, but a statement from Harry's trembling lips. 

"Yup! Happy coming out day mate!" Niall crowed, giving Harry a painful smack on the back.

"No fucking way," Harry mumbled. His hands clenched into white fists inside his coat pockets.

"This isn't even the best part!" Niall continued to babble, swinging his mug toward the center of the building. He was obviously already a little hammered, "Look right there! What oh what could that be?" 

Harry followed his gesture and nearly fainted. In the center of the large dance floor was a short, square stage, with a gleaming pole going all the way to the ceiling. At the moment it was empty. Harry's stomach completely bottomed out. It was one thing to be forced into a club. It was a completely different thing to have to stand uncomfortably crowded and watch some forty-year-old peel off a police uniform that was two sizes too tight. The thought itself gave him chills.

"No, Niall. No we're going home."

"C'mon, Haz," Niall whined, leaning on Harry's shoulder, "Lighten up. Live a little. Watch a hot stripper." 

Harry grimaced, "This is stupid. I'm not going to watch a stripper to 'celebrate my gayness'. I don't even want to celebrate that shit. We're going home." 

Harry turned to leave, anger and embarrassment bubbling up in him. He was glad that Niall had not rejected him, but he couldn't believe this. Niall knew he didn't like parties. But this was not just a party. This was a fumbling, drunk bunch of  _gay men_ , and Harry had only just gotten the courage to admit to his best friend that he was bi. He hadn't even had his first real kiss yet. How could Niall think he'd be comfortable in this situation?

Another song started up as Harry stepped from the bar. Niall continued to pull at his arm, crooning about how he was doing this 'all for Harry'. Harry ripped out of the feeble clutch and shoved forward. A sort of claustrophobia gripped him, and all he knew was he need to _get out of this club_. But he didn't get far before he was blocked by a wall of bodies. 

"Excuse me," he grunted. Instead of moving out of his way, the group shuffled forward, pushing Harry toward the dreaded stage. Harry scrabbled uselessly at shoulders and chests, panic taking over, "Excuse me! Please let me through!"

"Hey, watch it buddy," someone said, and then a rough hand threw Harry backward another few feet. Niall spotted him again grabbed his sleeve, thinking Harry had changed his mind, "Yeah, let's go Haz! I knew you'd come around! Besides, this guy is supposed to be really good. Look, there he is!"

Harry fought it, but he couldn't help himself. He took a quick look. Then a second. Then he was staring. 

It was a man, but he couldn't be much older than Harry, unlike what he had been expecting. He was wearing a simple white muscle tank and tight black jeans, not some elaborate costume. His caramel hair, carefully styled, was reflecting the soft strobe lights flashing his way. When he glanced up, a white strobe made his blue eyes turn to ice. Harry couldn't breathe. He suddenly felt a little starstruck.

The man wrapped thin fingers around the pole and began to grind to the beat. Harry's eyes fell unwittingly to his ass, and he gasped. It perfectly filled the back of his jeans, and probably was the highlight for most of these men here. Several cheered when he bumped it their way. Harry, in contrast, found himself drawn back to the serious furrow in the man's brow as he carefully counted out the beats in the song. 

The man did a spin around the pole, then dropped to a squat. The whoops grew louder. As he worked, his hands left the pole every once in a while to pull teasingly at his clothes-- lifting his shirt a little to reveal his flat tanned stomach, tugging at his waistband to uncover a perfectly sculpted hipbone. Harry bit his lip and tasted blood. The panic still thrummed in his veins, but the longer he examined those small white hands- fingernails clipped to clean ovals, knuckles sharp- a weird sort of calm blanketed him.  

As the beat really dropped, an announcer called over a loudspeaker, "Introducing, tonight's entertainment, the ever enjoyable and always desirable... Louis!" 

 _Louis_. Harry rolled the name around in his mouth a couple times. He wondered if it was his real name. It fit him and his sharp cheekbones. He entangled his legs around the pole and spun himself again, putting his arms over his head, letting his shirt slide off easily. Then he rested his feet on the ground again and slowly slid his now bare chest along the metal, lifting his face to the ceiling and closing his eyes. The men around Harry catcalled. Harry was mesmerized by the fan of Louis' eyelashes against his pale skin.

As Louis' performance continued, Harry began to slowly make his way through the crowd, toward the stage. He could almost hear Niall's cheers of encouragement. He ignored them. He was too focused on the way Louis looked like he'd just bitten into a peach-- lips glossy pink, sticky. He casually undid his jeans. A handful of singles fluttered onto the stage. 

The whole place was shaking with the bass and the shouts, but Louis was steady. He climbed a little up the pole and then dropped his head back again, arching his back. He showed no sign of discomfort when his jeans dipped below the waistband of his boxers. In fact, after another slow spin, he stepped away from the pole and began to carefully peel them off, leg by leg. The whole club was in an uproar. Money littered the stage floor. 

He tossed the jeans into the crowd, just as Harry was reaching the front. He realized they were headed right for him, and before he could raise a hand to catch them they landed on his face. The men around him half laughed and half cheered as he sheepishly removed them. He looked up to find Louis grinning at him. 

"Thanks babe," Louis mouthed with a wink. Harry's knees buckled slightly. 

Louis went back to his routine, the muscles in his golden thighs flexing as he twisted and turned. He was apparently getting into the more challenging moves, because now he was breathing heavily, and his fringe was drooping a little against the sweat glistening on his forehead. He slid a finger teasingly under the leg of his boxer briefs, and Harry could've sworn he glanced his way while the others in the club hollered. 

Partition by Beyoncé began bumping through the speakers. Louis lost no energy as he did several complicated spins, ending in a slow, careful dip. As he raised back up, he let his thumb get caught in his waistband, giving another tease. Harry's arms were wrapped around himself, as if to hold himself together. Louis stepped away from the pole again, this time to move toward the front of the stage, doing a sort of dance that Harry was sure was meant to be very sensual. Harry had been half hard since he first saw Louis, so the little hip swings only made things worse.  

Louis dropped to his knees at the edge of the stage, right in front of Harry, and leaned onto his hands, a smirk pulling at his thin lips. Harry suddenly wanted more than anything to bite along that jawline. 

As Louis's face came closer, Harry found himself whispering, "God, how can you be so right but so wrong?" 

Louis grinned, then suddenly pushed himself forward so that his lips were brushing Harry's ear. Harry flinched.

"I have one more song. And then you're taking me home."

He pulled away slowly, then carefully got back to his feet and returned to his pole. 

Harry was surprised his pants were still clean.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks so much to those (or the one) that is enjoying this! I am sort of enjoying it too! Sorry I'm not amazing at writing stripper scenesss. If you have corrections, the comments are begging for them. Also I have a tumblr (ijusthaventmetniallyet) if you wanted to know.


	2. Don't Run Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry realizes it's a small world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, second chapter! It's got a bit of depressing stuff in it and then it's all fluff. I hope you enjoy.

"Why the fuck are we leaving?" Niall cried, digging his heels into the concrete, "Aw Haz, you were having fun!"

Harry used his free hand to press against his still uncomfortably hard crotch and grimaced. He really hated himself right now. And Niall. Especially Niall.

"Harry, Harold, lad, let's just have one more drink-"

"Look Niall, you know I don't like clubs," Harry said in a sharp whisper, whipping around to face his complaining friend, "But you stepped past that line and more. A gay club? A stripper, for god's sake?"

Niall was still smirking, so Harry leaned in close to his ear, "I haven't had a lay in ages. And you take me to see _a stripper_?" He backed up to give Niall a disgusted look, "You're an absolute prick. Stay if you like. I'm going home."

With that he released Niall's hand and stomped to the edge of the street, waving for a cab. He heard Niall come up beside him, but didn't bother to turn and look. The rain was heavy now, and it splattered painfully against Harry's cheeks. Cars sped past, sending sprays into the air. Harry looked up to see a full moon working to peek through the thick cloud cover. He wished it luck.

"I'm sorry," Niall finally spoke, his speech subdued and a little more sober.

Harry stayed quiet, but dropped his hand.

Niall seemed thoughtful for a second, then continued, "You know, I'd been planning this. The day you'd come out, I mean. I.. I wanted it to be fun for you, because I knew how much you were bothered by your feelings. I just wanted to show you you shouldn't be uncomfortable with yourself."

He shuffled his feet, dropping his head, then looking up again. Harry discreetly followed his eyes, found him watching the brightly lit buildings across the road. He himself stared through an open hotel window. Inside, a woman was rocking a baby in her arms, her silhouette protectively hunched.

"Those men in there? They had to come out too, once," Niall went on carefully, "They had to realize they had feelings, more feelings than the rest of us. And now they're comfortable with themselves. They're okay being different, more loving," he paused, then stated firmly, "Because that's what it is, you know, being able to love more than just one gender," another pause, as if allowing that thought to sink into Harry, "Anyway, I wanted you to be surrounded by that. To.. to feel confidence. Louis? He's full of it. Couldn't you see it? Feel it?"

"Niall," Harry sighed, running a hand through his now drenched hair, "All I could feel was myself losing control. If this was any indication," he snorted, tapping his crotch and then wishing he hadn't.

Niall chuckled, shaking his head.

"Losing control? Or finally being who you are?"

Caught by surprise, Harry was silent again. Niall turned to him and put a hand on his shoulder, a soft smile on his face.

"I just want you to love yourself Haz. All of yourself."

Harry watched his feet, blinking rapidly, hoping the rain covered his tears. Niall didn't understand. But he didn't speak. It was too complicated a subject.

"Hey, let's go home then. I'll make you a cuppa. Sound alright?" Niall soothed, wrapping his arms around Harry in a warm embrace. So he either did notice the waterworks, or could just read Harry well. It was probably both. Niall apparently read Harry better than he'd thought.

"Yeah," Harry replied, nodding. At least the conversation was over, before it had gotten any worse. Harry leaned into the hug, pressing his nose against Niall's neck with a thick exhale.

When the cab stopped for them, Harry let Niall slide in first, then turned away to wipe the trails off his face before following. Niall didn't understand because Niall didn't know. And Harry didn't want him to. Niall was too good a person to be weighed down by Harry. One day, he'd leave like the rest, and he'd be better off. But while he was here, Harry would hold onto him with all he had. Because he was all he had.

When they were settled into the warm cab and rushing down the road, he heard Niall chuckle softly.

"What's so funny?" he jabbed lightheartedly, poking his finger in the space between Niall's ribs.

Niall grinned at him, the streetlights glinting off the white of his teeth, "Should've kept his jeans."

He broke into barks of laughter as Harry smacked his neck, the noise causing the driver to look through the rearview mirror at them in alarm.

"I hate you Niall."

"Love you too, Hazza."

\---

The little bell on the door dinged brightly as Harry walked into work the next morning. Pale sunlight streamed in through the shopfront windows and put a gleam on the carefully mopped tile beneath his feet. A woman appeared in a doorway at the back of the shop, her snow white hair trapped beneath a blush-colored sailor's hat, matching his own.

"Morning Harry," she said with a smile, smoothing her white apron. On the front the words _"Sweet Surrender"_ were embroidered in a flowing script, the color matching that of her hat. Beneath the apron she wore casual jeans and a plain black t-shirt.

"Good morning Suze," Harry replied, breaking into a yawn at the end. The woman tutted at him as she stepped behind a counter filled with pastries, crouching down to pick a strawberry danish.

"No yawning in my bakery," she said, wrapping a napkin around the danish and bringing it to him, "My employees are supposed to be wide awake and ready to serve." Her eyes were filled with a maternal warmth as she handed him the pastry, and in a softer voice she asked, "Would you like some coffee with that, love?"

"Yes please," he mumbled around a mouthful, wiping crumbs off his chin. The woman shook her head with a fond look before heading to the coffee station to make him a cup. He closed his eyes as the smell of it brewing filled the room, mixing with the already pungent scent of baking. He loved how this feeling, that early morning daze of lazy sunrise smiles pushing at cloudy yawns, could calm his constantly buzzing nerve endings and ice his hot anxiety until he felt his old laid-back self blooming like a flower after a long winter. Smiling, he walked up behind his boss and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her cap, careful to hold his pastry away from her apron.

"Harry!" she scolded with no venom, waving a hand in his general direction, "You're smushing my hair dear."

"Oh no! Susan can't be going around with smushed hair! It'd be a _disaster!"_ he fell away from her dramatically, putting his danish-filled hand to his forehead as if he were about to go into a faint.

"Oh hush and take your coffee you cheeky child," she chuckled, passing him his mug and heading back toward the room she'd left upon his arrival, "And hurry up with that breakfast. I don't pay you to stand around and eat the merchandise."

He smirked at her retreating figure before stuffing the last bite into his mouth and chasing it with a sip of coffee. The tip of his tongue burned immediately upon contact, but he didn't mind. He enjoyed a certain numbness from time to time. As he followed Susan into the back room, he ran the sore bit over the roof of his mouth.

Susan was pulling a tray from an oven when he entered, and another woman rolling dough glanced up and lit up with a slow smile at the sight of him.

"Harry!" she drew out his name while she dropped her work to give him a hug, "Good to see you darling."

Harry laughed softly as he returned her affections, "Lou, I work here. You see me every day."

"So you want me to say that it's horrible to see you? Fine, I simply _loathe_ the sight of you Harry," she replied in an exaggerated accent, fluttering her long black lashes and picking up her rolling pin again.

Harry put his face near hers and pouted, "Aw, Lou, you don't mean it." She flipped the plump lip with a polished fingernail and gave him a sidelong look, her mouth curled against a smile, but she said nothing.

"Harry," Susan was standing by the mixer with her arms crossed, and when he glanced her way she crooked a finger, "Got a job for you, babe."

"Sure," he replied, waltzing over with his hands behind his back. He snuck a poke to Lou's hip, making her squeal and glare at his broad shoulderblades. He grinned.

Susan pointed to a yellowed page in her large, worn cookbook. It was passed down from her grandmothers' grandmother, used by her family for years. She was bringing these recipes to life and passing them on to the world, just as her ancestors had always dreamed of doing. Harry felt a swell of pride at the thought that he was helping this legacy continue.

"I want to make this our specialty item today. Does it sound good?" she spoke, chewing on her softly wrinkled lip. Harry furrowed his brow as he examined the recipe. It was called Nuts for Bananas Bread, and while it had many of the same ingredients as a traditional banana nut bread, it also contained certain unexpected ingredients, like "a splash of eggnog for a more moist texture" and "a pinch of extremely fine ground coffee." It also was topped with what sounded to be a heavenly brown sugar icing. Definitely diabetes in a pan. He told Susan as much, and she laughed brightly.

"I suppose that's what we're going for," she said warmly.

"Don't let the papers know. They'll have health inspectors all over this place," he cautioned, and Susan rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Harry. You do have the wildest brain of anyone I've ever known," she began to tap her chin, and from the faraway look in her eyes Harry could tell she was already back to being lost in her work. He smiled-- if his was the wildest brain, hers was the most organized. Suddenly her mouth formed a small 'o' and she put her finger to Harry's chest.

"Bananas," she murmured, "We're out of bananas."

"I can go grab some before we get started," Harry offered, his hand already feeling for the car keys in his pocket.

She patted him with a smile, "Get to it then. We open in 20."

"Gotcha," he answered, and he hurried out, swinging his keys. He couldn't help but give a pinch to Lou's side as he walked past. He giggled at the way his name whined out of her mouth while his long legs pushed him out of reach of her retaliating smack.

He did a little spin before opening the front door, taking in the homey bakery one more time. He really loves his job.

\---

_what kind of bananananananaaass do you need?_

Harry sent the text to Susan and ran fingertips over the bunches of bananas in front of him, his brow furrowed deeply. He remembered reading something about the type of bananas in the recipe, but that bit of information seemed to have slipped his mind. He picked up one banana that was resting on its side by itself and considered buying it for a snack. Bananas were probably his favorite fruit ever. He was picking at the tip of the peel when his phone buzzed in his pocket. The sudden vibration made him visibly flinch. Someone snickered near him, and he glanced up.

Oh.

His hand froze halfway to his pocket. He felt his other hand tighten around the banana, squishing it slightly.

Across the produce bins, blue eyes with crinkled edges smiled at him. Thin lips released another small laugh. A hand with slender fingers raised to try to hold the sound in. Harry felt like everything was moving in slow motion as he stared. A roaring noise filled his ears, making every other noise in the grocery store become a murmur. His gaze trailed carefully over the figure in front of him, wishing he didn't recognize it.

Caramel hair with golden highlights feathered itself over a pale forehead, looking soft and freshly washed. A white scoop-neck tee hung low on sharp shoulders, giving a wide view to a pair of God-sculpted collarbones. The shirt draped down, leaving much to the imagination in the way of the torso-area, but Harry knew what was hidden beneath that thin cotton fabric. He knew he'd never forget that expanse of golden flesh, and how it had swayed before his eyes, sweat leaving glistening tracks across scarce abs. He swallowed so thickly he was sure his tongue was now in his stomach.

Muffled words worked their way past his racy memories and into the actual thinking part of his brain, knocking him swiftly back into reality like he'd just stepped into a busy street and was hit by a speeding bus. He brought his eyes quickly back up to the other man's face, feeling heat pooling under the skin of his cheeks.

"What?" he said dumbly, the banana squishing a little more under his nails.

The other let out another laugh, shoulders shaking cutely, hand covering the flashes of his teeth again.

"I said hi," he called over the piles of fruit between them, his head tilting a little. Harry found the subconscious move adorable. He was searching for a reply when he heard a small, wet pop and looked down to find that the peel of the banana had opened under his tight grip.

"Oops," he mumbled. That tinkling of a laugh filled his ears again, and he couldn't help but feel the hint of a smile pull at the corners of his lips. Then he realized he was talking to Louis in a grocery store. Louis, the stripper. Louis who'd literally thrown his jeans at Harry. He thought he might faint.

"Hey, it's rude to laugh when someone's embarrassed," Harry complained, trying to calm his jumpy nerves and bring back that casualness, but he felt his confidence slipping away. He kept his eyes fixed on the banana, his thumb pulling gently at the new opening, his hair blocking his face with a soft curtain of curls. He really needed to get it cut, but he couldn't be arsed to. Besides, he kind of liked the feel of wind blowing through it, and when Niall carded his fingers through it. Maybe he'd just grow it longer.

"Sorry," came the unapologetic reply, and Harry couldn't help glancing up again. The face across from him was alight with a billion suns, radiating through a smile and glacial eyes.

Harry smirked, "Right."

"I dare you to eat it," Louis whisper-shouted, a challenging twinkle appearing in his eye as he glanced to and fro dramatically.

Harry arched an eyebrow, "Really? That's the best dare you can make?"

"Well, last night I dared you to take me home, but seems you weren't up for it," Louis retorted with verve, crossing his arms over his chest, but his smile was still wide. At the same time, all the blood was draining from Harry's face.

"Um- sorry, I- uh, well, you see- er-"

"Don't worry about it, I was joking," Louis interrupted, his voice soft.

An awkward silence fell over them. Harry fidgeted with the banana again, trying to think of something to say.

"I um," he started, looking up to see Louis watching him expectantly. He really wished he'd stop speaking before he had a chance to think.

"Uhh, I didn't expect to see you here," he finally blurted.

"What, a man's not allowed to buy groceries just because he's a stripper?" Louis chuckled, but waved a reassuring hand in Harry's direction when he saw that pale pink blush growing darker on his cheeks, "Joking again, really. You're horrible at taking jokes."

"Maybe I just don't like being the brunt of them," Harry replied with a shrug, then immediately felt guilty when the smile on Louis' face faltered, "But see, you can't take jokes either."

Louis gave Harry a degrading look, "That was hardly a joke. And anyway, you should tell me your name, because right now I'm calling you 'the party pooper' in my head."

Harry barely stifled his laugh, feeling a little weight fall from his shoulders, "I'm Harry. Harry Styles. Er... is your name really Louis?"

"The one and only," Louis flashed his perfect teeth again, then pointed to the space near Harry, "Mind if I come over there with you? This side of the produce isn't as nice."

It was crazy how everything Louis said made Harry want to burst out laughing. It was like Niall had taken the good side of his humour and put it into a compact little body that was exactly Harry's type. Wait, what?

Fumbling out of his stupid thoughts, he managed to stutter out a, "Sure."

The wheels on Louis' shopping cart squealed as he rushed around the bins. He tapped Harry lightly with the basket when he arrived, and Harry made a show of stumbling backward as though Louis had slammed him. The fact that he actually almost fell was worth it to hear that bright laugh, like the sound of a happy, bubbling stream.

"I like your outfit," Louis whispered conspiratorially as he leaned over his cart.

Harry had forgotten he was wearing his work uniform. He quickly grabbed the pink sailor's hat from his head and crumpled it in his hands, staring at it while another wave of flushing covered his face. Seriously, how was he so prone to blushing? Must've gotten it from his mum. He'd have to complain about it to her later.

"Noo," Louis protested, "Put it back on, it's cute."

Harry smirked, then threw it at him, admiring how it only took a quick flick of Louis' wrist to catch it, "If you like it so much, then you wear it."

"Hey, my job is removing clothing, remember?" Louis shot back, but he shoved the hat on his head anyway. It ended up being very lopsided and large, falling a little into his eyes. Harry felt like his heart might explode, because really, how could someone so fit be so adorable?

"How could I forget?" he muttered under his breath in reply.

Louis smiled, then laughed again. He looked down at his hands wrapped round the handle of the cart and- was that shyness on his face? Harry didn't know such a thing was possible for someone like Louis. Not that he knew him very well, but from what he'd seen, Louis was anything but shy.

"You should come to the club again tonight," Louis spoke, still not looking at Harry, "It'll be new songs and stuff. New choreography. If you come early we could maybe chat."

Harry's face softened into a fond expression at the invitation. Niall never invited him anywhere, just ordered him to go and dragged him there anyway if he refused. It was just a little thing, but it was the little things that meant the most to Harry, really. Like how Louis' voice had a breathy lilt to it, like he was always just a little excited about something. It made Harry feel a little excited too.

He considered the offer positively at first. He'd get to chat with Louis again, and that was enough of a reason to go. But then he remembered the dark, the sweat, the flashing panic, the suffocating heat, and it was as if someone had thrown water into a warm fireplace. His hands grew clammy, fingertips numb, and all blush disappeared from his cheeks. No, he knew, there was no way he was going back in that club.

"I, uh," he spoke, his voice guarded, "Don't think that's a good idea. Sorry."

"Oh," Louis answered. He sounded deflated. Harry felt only a little guilty.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and suddenly he remembered the whole reason he'd come to the grocery store. He pulled out his phone and read the waiting messages.

_Really ripe ones, like where they're kind of brown. Okay? (:_

_Harry? We're opening in 10..._

_Harry, please hurry with those bananas._

_haz, this is lou... we really reallyyy need those bananas!! i hope youre not eating them all!!! come quick pls xx p.s. suze is getting worried_

"I-I have to go," Harry said, not looking up from his phone, "I have to get back to work."

"Right," Louis said. All the brightness between them had become tension. Harry hated himself for causing that. He pressed dark half moons into his arm with his fingernails.

"Maybe I'll see you around?" Louis hedged softly, hopefully. It caused Harry to look up at him, to take in those wide blue eyes, the soft pull at the edges of those smooth lips.

"Maybe," he mumbled in reply, picking up a bunch of nearly overripe bananas and putting them in a produce bag, trying to end the conversation quickly. All the weight from before was back, like an elephant getting itself comfortable on the nape of his neck.

"Okay. Bye Harry," Louis said, his voice bland. Harry still didn't look up, but his peripheral vision noticed the way Louis' knuckles were white around the cart handle. 

"Bye," Harry answered, equally stoic, and then with a squeal of cart wheels Louis was gone. The lack of his presence hit Harry harder than it should have.

He shook his head softly as he bought his bananas. He hated having to turn Louis away. But Louis didn't know him. Louis didn't understand. And just like with Niall, Harry didn't want him to. He didn't want anyone to know. So as he headed back to work, he pushed all lingering wisps of Louis' name out of his head. Things were better this way, he told himself. The less people that got attached to Harry, the less people hurt.

When he got back to work, he had completely erased the incident from his mind, until Susan said, "Oh Harry, what happened to your hat?"

And, _oh_. That's what he'd forgotten.

\---

"There's banana bread in the kitchen. Help yourself," Harry said when Niall came in the door.

"Ah hell yes! I love banana bread!" Niall whooped as he raced past.

Harry chuckled and burrowed further into the three blankets he had wrapped around himself. He kept his eyes glued to the TV screen, though he was barely paying attention. In the loneliness of his flat, his mind had aimlessly wandered back to long eyelashes and feather soft hair. He wondered how long Louis had worn the hat before realizing it was on his head. A shiver ran through him as his brain pulled up an image of Louis doing his routine with Harry's hat still loose and skewed. He quickly shoved the thought away-- what was he trying to do, kill himself?

"The hell you watching Haz?" Niall's sharp voice cut through Harry's musings, and he realized just how much he hadn't been paying attention to the television. On screen, a woman was twirling in a horridly poofy wedding dress.

"Shut up, I love Say Yes To The Dress," he shot back, a smirk growing, "One day I'll be on it."

"Perfect blushing bride, dimple-cheeks," Niall quipped as he plopped down next to Harry, shoving a huge piece of banana bread into his mouth. Harry was just quick enough to knock away the hand that reached over to pinch his face.

"You'd be my best man, you know," Harry said.

"Well, I'd hope so!" Niall replied, his voice scolding, "I don't know why you'd think to choose anyone else. I'd give the best speech."

"A drunken one," Harry said dryly, giving Niall a sidelong look.

"Those are the best kind!" Niall responded, "Everyone knows that."

"Right," Harry said through a laugh.

The room grew quiet but for the muffled excited women voices coming from the TV. Niall let out a sigh and leaned his head back against Harry's broad shoulder, turning his head into his neck. Harry mellowed at the warm puffs of breath caressing his skin, and let his eyes flutter closed. The gentle embrace of the blankets and the weight of his friend were slowly pressing him into the mold of sleep, and ribbons of dreams curled in and out of his consciousness. Right before one tied him up for good, he heard a soft whisper from Niall.

"I hope you feel better soon, Hazza."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done, done and done. If you have suggestions, drop them in the comments please and thanks!! Also I still have a tumblr (ijusthaventmetniallyet) in case you wanted to know.


	3. Don't Slip Away My Dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis tries again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter! This one is fluffy I'll admit, but umm it has a little moody bit.

"That'll be ten pounds," Harry told the woman in front of him. She gave him a curt nod and fished in her purse with one hand, the other too busy keeping a phone to her ear as she droned into it.

Harry sighed and put the money in the cash register, passing her a receipt. The work day was almost over, and they'd been pretty slow today. He blamed it on the heavy rain outside, as well as Susan's specialty choice today. Who in their right mind would want an orange and raisin muffin? While he didn't hate oranges or raisins, or muffins for that matter, he didn't think it sounded like a good combination.

The woman didn't thank him as she turned to leave. He discretely flipped off her back. As she walked away, the bell on the door let out a soft tinkle, announcing the entrance of another customer. Harry hoped it was the last one. Not that he was excited to get home-- it would be too quiet and lonely for an hour until Niall got off work.

He picked up a pen and began to doodle on a napkin, letting the customer have time to look at the products. He started off just drawing swirls, then moved into a more complicated sketch of a monkey. He was actually quite impressed by how it was turning out.

The customer leaned their elbows on the counter in front of Harry and pointed at the drawing, "That you?"

Harry startled at the voice, and the pen slipped from his hand to fly and hit the other in the arm.

"I'll take that as a no," Louis remarked impishly, "But if I remember correctly you do have a thing for bananas."

Harry's mouth moved but no sound came out. It was like the sun had dropped from the sky to traipse its way into his shop. A sun with mussed hair and a slouchy, blue jumper that might or not bring out his eyes. He had to look away to keep from being blinded.

"Um," he finally got out, and he mentally patted himself on the back for not sounding as flustered as he probably looked, "I'd like to think I'm more attractive than a monkey."

Louis did that cute little head tilt again as he replied, "True."

When Harry glanced at him, he winked. Harry worked to find something else to say.

"Uh, can I help you?"

"How are those orange and raisin muffins?" Louis questioned, nodding in the direction of the glass presentation plate covered in them.

"Awful," Harry blurted, then backtracked, "I mean, um, I haven't really tried them, but they sound awful."

Louis chuckled, the sound making Harry want to melt into a thoughtless puddle. Harry expected if he had Louis' laugh recorded, he'd play it on a loop all day long. It'd definitely make his days a lot better. Just the little snippets he heard brightened it enough.

"Well, what does the chef recommend then?" Louis asked in an uppity tone.

Harry smirked, "The chef can't recommend anything, but the baker might."

"Cheeky bastard," Louis retorted, but the insult sounded a lot more like an endearment, "What does the baker recommend?"

"The strawberry danishes. He eats them every morning with a cup of coffee."

"Grab me one of those then."

Harry plucked up a napkin and knelt down to wrap it around the biggest danish in the pastry case. He stood and pretended he didn't notice the way Louis's eyes ran up and down the length of his body like he was the sweet thing he wanted to bite into.

When Harry handed him the danish Louis grinned, "Love that I get a little drawing with my purchase. Thanks, babe."

Harry blushed at that tacked on affection, and blushed even more at the sight of his monkey peering up at him from the napkin.

"Forgot about that," he mumbled while Louis laughed.

"In return for such a gift-" Louis spoke as he pulled a pink piece of cloth from his jumper pocket. It was Harry's hat.

Harry smiled while he took it, the fabric still warm from Louis' body heat.

"Thanks," he bit his lip, "But you still have to pay for the danish."

"Damn," Louis swore, the edges of his eyes breaking into delicate folds of skin, "I was hoping you'd let this one slide."

"I suppose I could... but only if you 'slide' me a bite," and Harry cracked up at his own joke.

"Oh god, that was terrible," Louis moaned, but it was in between giggles.

Harry stifled his laughter with a hand, and found himself staring for no particular reason except that Louis looked gorgeous just like this, with his eyes squeezed into impossibly abundant crinkles and his fingers, looking meant to press the ivories of a piano, brushing delicately at his lips. Something inside Harry burst, like his heart had just gone into a supernova, and then he could feel himself falling. Helplessly, painfully tumbling headfirst into love with this tiny figure in front of him. And he hardly knew him. But to Harry, it felt like he knew enough-- his laugh, his smile, his voice, and his crazy beautiful eyes.

"Hey," Louis said softly.

Harry blinked, but the feeling didn't fade.

"Hey," he replied, equally fond. His mind was an absolute mess right now, as if Louis had taken his pretty hand and smeared all Harry's thoughts into a multicolored finger painting. And Harry, like the stupid romantic he was, looked at it and called it magnificent art.

"You busy later? Maybe we could go to the park, hang out," Louis asked, and this time he sounded careful, hesitant-- ready for a rejection. Harry hated that.

"Actually, we're about to close up," Harry said, "But I don't know if the park's a good idea. I mean, since it's raining and all."

Louis looked up, and Harry smiled at the excitement shining in his eyes, the way a grin was quick to stretch across his face. It was like he hadn't even heard the last words Harry had said. He was too focused on the fact that Harry had even agreed to go. The idea hit like a punch to the stomach, but the hurt only turned into happiness. Strange how love could take something ugly and still find it beautiful.

"When do you close?" Louis asked.

Harry glanced at the clock.

"Oh, uh, I guess right now," he said, "Give me a bit, I'll be right back."

He turned and went into the kitchen, only to be met by two pairs of curious eyes.

Lou raised an eyebrow and smirked, "Alright Haz, who's the boy?"

Fear sparked white hot in Harry. He'd never told Lou or Susan that he was bisexual. He didn't want them to know. He didn't want anyone to know. He narrowed his eyes at Lou and cleared his throat, "A friend."

"Really?" Lou replied dryly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm not gay, Lou," he growled, a hot blush smothering his face and neck as he glanced away.

"Harry," she said quietly, then waited.

Slowly, he looked back at her. She pointed at his feet, and he followed her gesture right as she said, _"Glitter boots."_

Harry scowled at his incriminating footwear, "So? Doesn't mean shi-"

"Harry," Susan broke in, her face soft as she came over and put a hand on his shoulder, "It's okay. Really."

When he kept his face lowered, she put two fingers to his chin and lifted it until he was looking into her eyes.

"It's okay," she repeated. Her voice, motherly, had a soothing effect that blanketed his fiery panic like a gentle snow. He felt tension leave his muscles, and the knot in his stomach loosened.

"He really is just a friend," he whispered, fighting back a disappointment that wanted to swamp him with uncontrollable tears. It wasn't okay. It would never be okay. He was smart, he'd learned that by now.

"But you do like him," Lou said, her voice tender. She was looking at him with a frown now, worry puckering her brow. Harry hated himself for causing that.

"Maybe," he said, turning his face to a blank wall. It was stupid, really, how his moods changed. One minute he was on top of a cloud, the next he was falling right through it.

"Hey," Susan said, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, "We'll close up for you, okay? Go and have fun."

Harry put his hands in his pockets and slouched away from her touch, was quiet for a minute. Lou clasped her hands together hopefully.

"You guys should really stop being such eavesdroppers," he finally said, his voice muted.

Susan let out a too-loud laugh, "Well, you know us, we love a good bit of gossip."

Harry couldn't fight the smirk that pulled at his lips, and he glanced at his coworkers, "Thanks guys. For not... just, thanks."

"You know we love you no matter what," Susan said in a hushed tone.

"Yeah, even when you're a twat," Lou huffed out, her voice sounding grumpy, and squealed when Harry reached out to lightly punch her arm.

"Rude," he laughed, "I better leave, I see I'm unwanted."

"Yes, please get out of here!" Lou jokingly begged, "And take that cutie out there with you!"

"I hate you, Lou," Harry grumbled with a smile.

"Love you too, Haz," he barely caught as he walked out.

Louis was waiting by the door when Harry stepped back into the actual shop. He gave Harry a wide grin and bounced a little on his toes. God, he was adorable. Yet this was the same guy who'd casually showcased his nearly naked body for a full club? Impossible.

"Ready?" Louis asked enthusiastically.

"Yeah," Harry replied, pulling on his jacket, "But seriously, we need to talk about your location choice."

Louis either didn't hear him or didn't find it necessary to respond as he rushed out the front door, the little bell announcing his departure into the soaking downpour. Harry simply grinned.

He tugged on a beanie that had been stuffed in his jacket pocket as he caught up to the smaller figure, fixing the curls that were left out for no reason except to look as good as possible for this boy he barely knew. When he got to his side, Louis moved in closer so that his arm brushed Harry's while they walked. He had a bit of danish left, and he passed it to Harry with a smile.

"Bit chilly, yeah?" Louis remarked, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he glanced up at the dark cloudy sky.

"Um, well, of course. It's raining. And you want to go to the park," Harry said slowly, as though speaking to a 5-year-old.

Louis flashed him with another blinding smile, "Good thing we don't have to walk all the way there."

At Harry's confused look, Louis pulled a set of jangling keys from his pocket, his eyebrows wiggling. Harry raised his hands and let out a little whoop before jogging over to the vehicle, Louis' laugh echoing behind him.

Harry gave the car a once over as he waited for Louis to unlock it, and his eyes widened. It was a 1967 Austin-Healey 3000, though in the dim circle of streetlight Harry wasn't sure which Mark. It was a little rough around the edges-- a few dents here and there from hail and general wear, and the paint was chipped in a few places. However, it was still a glorious car all things considered. It was duo-toned with a bright blue the color of Louis' eyes and a pearl white. Harry ran a gentle hand along the slope of the door.

"You like it?" Louis asked gently, his smile still achingly wide.

"What- er, how did you get one of these?" Harry murmured, still caressing the cool metal.

"It's my grandpa's," Louis replied, patting the roof of the car lovingly, "He said if I'm ever going on a date I can borrow it, to show off you know."

Louis looked up again to find Harry blushing furiously, rain water dripping from his loose curls.

"Um... so. This is a date?" Harry questioned, turning his eyes to the hand resting on the car.

"If you want it to be," Louis answered heavily, and Harry met his gaze.

They were quiet for a minute, their ears filled with the sound of puddles growing beneath their feet. Harry slowly began to smirk.

"So, you were... planning this?"

Now it was Louis' turn to duck his head, his lips in a pursed smile, "Maybe."

"Cute," Harry mumbled, and relished in the warm rose color that bloomed on Louis' cheeks.

They slid into their respective sides of the car, and Louis started the engine while Harry removed his work apron from under his jacket and threw it into the backseat.

"Wow," Harry breathed as the vehicle rumbled to life, "What a car."

Louis grinned in response as he reached into the console, pulling out an iPod and a mobile speaker. When he noticed Harry's furrowed brow, he shrugged, "This car only has an AM radio. Can't get much on that."

"Oh," Harry said, and slumped down a little in the seat. He really wasn't in the mood for Louis' type of music. He blinked lazily at Louis's thumbs moving over the screen-- nimble and quick. He just wanted to reach over and lace his fingers between Louis', rub his calloused thumb into the smooth, silk skin that he imagined smelled faintly of cinnamon. Instead he kept his hands tightly clasped in his lap.

The speaker began to put out soft acoustic chords, and Louis turned the steering wheel to pull out onto the road. Harry made a little snort of surprise as the voice joined into the song.

Louis glanced at him, "What?"

"Oh, ah. I just, um didn't expect... well the music, I-"

"It's called Michigan by-"

"No, no I know the song," Harry said sheepishly, spreading his hands on his thighs, "It's just... I thought you'd play like... you know."

Louis gave him a raised eyebrow, then scoffed, "Oh! Oh, no way. I don't like listening to my work music when I'm off."

"Oh," Harry said in a low tone, fiddling with a string from the frayed hole in his jeans, "So um... speaking of that.. why do you work there?"

Louis didn't look at him as he considered his answer, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. Harry found himself struggling to keep his eyes to himself.

"Well," Louis started, "I, uh, didn't want to go to college."

He laughed, a little too brightly, and his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"I still needed money though, but um... nowhere else would really hire me. And I thought, I have the curves and such, might as well flaunt it, right?"

Harry turned to face him, suddenly insistent.

"But you don't have to do this kind of job, I mean, the bakery is always hiring, and there are other things-- you could still go to college-"

"I'm fine, Haz," Louis cut in quietly, "Don't worry about me."

Harry's argument was subdued by the use of the nickname, one only Niall and those who worked with him used. It sounded different coming from Louis' mouth: honeyed and affectionate, with a lilt that only Louis' accent could add. Louis gave him another weak grin, and he replied with a look of soft understanding. After all, here he was with a college degree, and he was still working in a crummy old bakery-- pun fully intended.

He settled back into listening to the song, leaning against the headrest and closing his eyes. The rain drops were the perfect background for the simple tune, sounding like a million fingers tapping to the beat. The guitar surged warmly into the air with the waves of heat coming from the vents, and the voice was soft, lulling. Quietly, Louis joined in, and Harry felt his heart catch itself in his throat. He swallowed down a choked noise. Louis' voice was like breaking the surface after nearly drowning beneath crashing, unforgiving waves. It put everything back into focus-- made life seem brighter. Now Harry couldn't breathe, because his heart decided to start pumping right there in his esophagus.

_Michigan's in the rear view now_

_keep your hands where I can see them_

_You took the words right out of my mouth_

_when you knew that I would need them_

On a strange heady breath, Harry opened his eyes and whispered the words, fighting the urge to stare at Louis' lips tracing the song's pattern into the night. Louis' head shifted to give him a long, perhaps longing, look. His eyes reflected the streetlights' glow, but in thousands of tiny sparks-- constellations of hope. Inside, Harry felt that hope-- hope that he could love, if only for a little while.

_What am I supposed to do now without you?_

_Without you_

Harry turned his gaze to the little translucent paths snaking down the windshield and relaxed more, moving his hands to grip the car rather than his own legs. He suddenly felt like exploding into a fit of sobs, for no reason except that he didn't know how to handle all the emotions swirling tornado-like in his stomach. He wanted someone, of course he did. Everyone wanted someone. Everyone yearned for that warm hand that somehow perfectly fit in their own, those early morning whispers and late night hums of sweet affections. It wasn't uncommon to wish for slow love-making on a rainy day. But Harry knew he couldn't... he just simply couldn't allow himself to accept anything like that. He was a mess, and not just because he was constantly stumbling over his pigeon-toed feet.

Another song began, one Harry was surprised to find even he didn't recognize, and as the car slowed to a stop at a red light, he felt a careful, cool touch against the back of his hand on the console. Fighting against the screams of his heart, he pulled it away, back to his lap. He tried to block out the sound of Louis' heavy sigh. He couldn't let Louis in, because he knew, truthfully, if Louis knew him, he wouldn't want in. He would want to be as far out as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, these two are cute. Okay um, thank you thank you, also my tumblr is still alive (ijusthaventmetniallyet) and still dumb, so yeah, if you want to talk to me, please do. Also the lyrics are from Michigan by The Milk Carton Kids. Look it up, it's a beautiful song.


	4. Before You Go Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is not so good at football.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Four chapters! I really really hope someone out there is enjoying this. Thanks to that lovely person! Also this one has a trigger warning, because Harry is depressed and in this chapter his bad habit is thrown into the light. So, for those of you that are affected by depressing things, please please be careful reading this.

"We're here," Louis murmured.

Harry looked up and, sure enough, there was the park, dripping and muddy.

"I still don't get why you're so intent on this place," Harry said, "Like, we could've gone to a diner or something. Had a milkshake."

"Still could," Louis admonished with a wink, "But first, I want to see your footie skill."

"Oh shit," Harry blurted, making Louis burst into cackles.

"Too late, Harold! You're not getting out of this one!" He cried triumphantly as he leaned over the console to get a football from the backseat. Harry had to once again note how wonderfully round his bum was. He also considered how easily it was for Louis to slip back into that careless persona he so brashly possessed. It made Harry wish to be that easygoing, that ready to accept good over bad.

"But it's raining and cold," Harry whined, bringing a challenging smirk from Louis.

"Only an advantage for me. You're going down Harry."

Harry narrowed his eyes, smiling, "Oh, we'll see about that Lou." He ignored the way Louis' face brightened at the nickname. Hey, if Louis could find one for him, he might as well start finding some for Louis.

Louis cut short the car's deep purr with a turn of the key, then they both headed out and toward the soggy grass. Along the way Harry received a large shove and nearly landed face first in a gigantic puddle. Louis crowed with laughter as Harry used his foot to splash water in his direction. Then they were both racing onto the grass, Harry pulling ahead only because of his gangly long legs.

"Not fair!" Louis moaned, but he was grinning.

"You're about to kick my arse at football, so I think it is," Harry lazily cracked his knuckles, raising his eyebrows. Louis flipped up his hood and began to dribble the football nimbly, doing that little tilt with his head again, "True. Let's get started then."

With that he pulled back and sent the ball flying toward Harry with a hard kick. Harry began to shuffle backward awkwardly, stumbling at first out of surprise at Louis' quickness. As the ball came close he readied his form, went for the kick and-

Missed.

Not only that, though. To the tune of Louis' high-pitched laughter, Harry's lone planted sneaker slipped on the wet grass and sent him butt first onto the ground. He let out a little "ooff" when he hit. He turned to glare at Louis, only to find him on the ground too, curled up in a ball and laughing with his eyes squinted closed and hardly any sound coming out.

"Oh, what the hell," he muttered in defeat, then laid back flat on the grass and giggled at himself. Louis uncurled his tiny body enough to crawl over to Harry before slumping back into another fit of cackles that squeaked off into silent laughing once again.

"It's not funnyy," Harry groaned, but giggles still bubbled out of him.

"You-" Louis spluttered, then couldn't continue. Harry smacked his arm, lightly, "Hush!"

Louis worked to calm himself, wiping his eyes as he looked at Harry.

Harry pouted, "You're so mean, Lou."

"Aww, I'm sorry Hazza," Louis cooed, flicking the tip of Harry's nose, his eyes glittering with amusement.

Harry grinned and Louis returned the expression, poking his finger into one of Harry's dimples, "Let's try again, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry said, blinking slowly.

Louis was the first to stand, and he held his hand out to Harry. Harry looked at it for a while, contemplating the fine wrinkles criss-crossing the soft palm. It almost felt like the moment he'd first met Niall. Taking this hand could very well change his life, because he'd be accepting help from another person, allowing someone else to have a vulnerable piece of him. It was only a baby-step of trust, but Harry had always been cautious with that sort of thing. Still... Louis was an inviting presence, radiating a sort of peaceful forever. And his hand looked awfully pretty slicked with raindrops.

Harry took it casually, pulled himself up out of the muck. Louis smiled. Harry squeezed his hand, then let go.

The game continued, and this time Harry's foot actually made connection when the ball came his way. Even if it didn't go the direction he had been wanting it to, it was still progress. They slid to and fro, knocking the ball on zig-zag paths between them, sparkling with laughter. Harry was impressed by Louis' skill, even in the inclement weather. He was also preoccupied with the way Louis' brows scrunched together right before a kick, and the breathy little pants that rushed from his slightly open mouth. Wow. He needed to get a grip.

The ball flew past him and hit a tree, and Louis punched his fists into the air, shouting "Goooaal!" as he began to bounce in a circle. Harry shook his head fondly and went to get the ball. The sound of Louis' cheers echoed in his ears. When Harry turned back around, rolling the ball across his hands, Louis had his arms crossed over his chest, one knee popped as he shifted most of his weight onto one hip.

"Looks like you're gonna have to step up your game, Harold," he called.

"My name's not even Harold," Harry replied when he was close enough to speak normally, "It's just Harry."

"Well, Just-Harry," Louis said sarcastically, squinting his eyes, "Having a lame-o name makes you no better at footie."

"Oh yeah?" Harry remarked lowly, raising an eyebrow. Then he dropped the ball and gave it a hard kick. It skidded right past a surprised Louis, who scrambled to catch it, the ground squelching beneath his feet. Harry mocked Louis with a "Goooall!" as moans of defeat poured from Louis' lips. 

Louis was quick to regain his ground though. The score climbed from 1-1 to 3-1, and, after another sloppy fall, 4-1. Then the game became more intense, so much so that Louis even stopped making his snide quips. The spaces in between their shuffling feet were filled with labored breathing, flitting eyes and short smiles. Louis almost made another goal, knocking the ball just past Harry's outreached foot, but Harry did a fast stumble and stopped its trajectory. He began to move downfield with it, going from toe to toe, trying to determine where Louis would place himself.

Louis flipped sopping fringe from his eyes, his hood having long dropped from protecting his head. He grinned as Harry came closer, sending the approaching boy a sharp wink. Harry simply shook his head in response. No amount of charm would stop him from making this goal. Not even from eyes of endless summer sky. He faked to the right, then went left with a burst of speed.

Unfortunately Louis still was able to track Harry's movements, and he rooted himself right in Harry's intended path. Unable to slow himself, Harry gave the ball a powerful kick, grunting from the effort, and sent it flying through Louis' legs. Then he slammed right into Louis. 

They fell to the ground in a wet heap, already shaking with laughter. Harry found it worthless to move, so he let his chin rest on Louis' shoulder, his face tickled by the slick grass. He felt strong hands gripping his back, and Louis' stomach puffed beneath him with each laugh, making Harry's amusement even greater. 

"Get offff," Louis groaned, jabbing Harry with an elbow and chuckling still, "You're heavy."

"That's a filthy lie," Harry growled in his ear, "I'll have you know I weigh a svelte 11 stone 11 pounds. Surely all that muscle in your arms can handle me." 

"Oh, I think I can handle you," Louis replied roughly, his hands squeezing tighter, and Harry shifted up to look at him in surprise.

"Was that an innuendo?" Harry whispered, smirking.

"I don't know, was it?" Louis' eyes were heavy lidded, and he bit his lip.

Harry's eyes were drawn to the movement, and he found himself fascinated with the way sharp white pulled gentle folds into pink skin. Breath rushed from Louis' nostrils and filled Harry's face. He glanced up to find bright blue tracing desire along the bow of Harry's lips. 

"Louis," Harry whispered, but the only reply was the sound of his heart thumping in his ears, his pulse jumping erratically when Louis slid cool fingertips over it. Next they brushed on Harry's jaw, and ghosted over the place his eyes still had caught in their warmth. 

Something tightened in Harry's chest, cutting off his air supply for a split second. All control slipped away from his thoughts, and he cautiously lowered his face to Louis'. Louis put his hand to the back of Harry's neck with an encouraging caress, and Harry loved how his breath still held a trace of the strawberry danish from earlier. It was one of his favorite things. He wanted to taste it again.

Suddenly unabashed, he dropped his head, his lips pressing against Louis'. And Louis returned the favor, pulling Harry's bottom lip teasingly, turning Harry's insides to hot soup. Harry gently put the tip of his tongue to the soft skin, and Louis reciprocated by pulling it past and over the edges of his teeth. Harry sighed deeply as strawberry sweetness pooled on his taste-buds. 

It wasn't like other kisses he'd experienced- cold, calculated, stiff. It was open and fluid and warm, full of heart, of little candied wishes spilling stickily over the creases in his lips. And hadn't he said it was the little things he loved best? Then kissing Louis was like dipping his fingertips into Heaven. 

A raindrop splatted chill reality onto his nape, and suddenly Harry remembered. Dark clouded in over the bright oranges playing on his eyelids, and he pulled away quickly, his breathing heavy and thin. Louis looked up at him in confusion, his face flushed and his lips scarlet and swollen. 

Harry blinked, his stomach rolling, and he pushed himself up off of the small body beneath him. He scrambled to his feet, shoving shivering fingers into his hair.

"Sorry," he murmured, "Sorry I... my room-mate, he's probably worried about me. It's late." 

He turned away from Louis, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek. How could he be so  _stupid?_ Why did he think he'd be able to control himself around this vibrant firework? It was all pretty colors and shocking explosions until the sparks began to burn. 

Louis sighed, slowly standing, "Yeah, I understand. I'll take you home, Haz." 

"Thanks," Harry replied, but it was mostly whisper. His hands gripped into tight fists, nails digging into the skin of his palms.

"I'll just... go get the ball," he brushed around Louis, keeping his eyes on his soaked-through sneakers. 

As he walked back, once again rolling the ball from fingertip to fingertip, this time less enthusiastically, he scolded himself in his mind. He should never have agreed to this outing. 

But most of all, he should never have kissed Louis. 

The car ride to Harry's flat was quiet but for his mumbled directions. When they pulled to a stop in front of his building, Louis turned to look at him, and Harry hated the guilt he saw swimming in those wide eyes. 

"Look, Harry-" Louis tried to begin, his voice wounded, but Harry didn't want to make this any worse. It was better if he just left.

"Bye Louis. Sorry," he cut in before opening the passenger door and slipping out into the now soft drizzle, tugging his beanie even lower over his curls. He hurried away, feeling for his keys, and ignored the fact that he didn't hear the engine pull the car away until the door was almost closed behind him. 

When he reached his flat he slammed inside, tossing his jacket on a hook and throwing his sopping beanie on the ground, too upset to be bothered by it. Niall, who had been snoring on the couch, woke up at his noisy arrival and glared bleary-eyed in his direction.

"Oi, mate, what the hell? Where've you been?" he croaked, rubbing his eyes.

"Nowhere important," Harry mumbled, taking way too much time to slip off his boots.

"Oh, so I sat up waiting for your rude arse to come home just to be treated like this? Good to see you too, Haz," Niall replied dryly, pushing himself up with his elbows.

Harry cringed at the nickname, which was strange. Niall had called him that since day one. Louis' slight use of it shouldn't hold any weight, but somehow, the way his mouth had formed it had stuck itself in Harry's brain. 

"Sorry," he sighed, walking over to slump down on the arm of the couch.

Niall was still looking at him expectantly, wanting an explanation. He began to bounce his leg nervously, but decided he really should tell Niall. After all, what was a best friend for but to tell all your worries to? Not that Niall knew very many of his worries. He didn't want to burden him with them. 

He looked up at the ceiling for a while before finally telling the truth, "Uh, well. I was, er, out with Louis. Playing footie."

"Wait wait wait," Niall cut in, sitting up to grip Harry's arm, catching his attention. He stared with wide pupils into Harry's gaze, his mouth agape, "Did you say you were out with  _Louis? The_ Louis?" 

Harry gave him an exasperated look, "Yes,  _the_ Louis." 

Niall clapped his hand against his arm, grinning, "Damn Haz! That's great!"

"No," Harry snapped, "It wasn't great. I accidentally kissed him."

Niall's grin widened, "Mate, you serious? Holy shit! That's the Harry I remember! A real ladies' man!" 

Harry glared. Niall's face turned sheepish, "I'm just messing with ya."

It was quiet for a moment, then Niall pinched the knee of Harry's jeans and giving them a disgusted look, "Why'd you guys decide to play footie in the rain though? It's freezing balls." 

Harry shrugged, his lips wanting to hover into a smile, "It was Louis' idea. I think he enjoys showing off his skills or summat." 

"Apparently," Niall rolled his eyes, laying back and getting comfortable again. 

"Anyway," Harry continued, looking down at his fingernails, picking at a thumbnail, "Yeah. I was about to make a goal, and ended up running him over. So we were just laying there and... I kissed him. And it was stupid. Wish I hadn't done it."

"What, was he bad?" Niall's voice was thick with genuine confusion, so Harry refrained from giving him another death-glare.

"No, Niall, he wasn't 'bad.' In fact, it was.. it was really nice. But the point is it was stupid of me, because he's the type of guy that wants a one-night stand and nothing else."

"He told you that?"

"Not in so many words, but sort of," Harry began to chew on the thumbnail, the edges of his teeth slipping unsatisfactorily over the smooth white tip. 

"Well, what exactly did he say then?" Niall's voice was turning probing, impatient. Harry decided it was time to end the conversation.

"Nothing, really. Nothing. And anyway, I'm tired. Let's get to bed," he yawned for good measure. 

Niall's gaze was still curious, but he consented with a grunt, sliding off of the couch and heading down the hallway, "Don't be too long."

"Nah, I'm just gonna get some painkillers. Head hurts a bit," Harry called in reply, walking into the small kitchen.

He pulled open the right cabinet door and plucked a bottle of Ibuprofen from its depths. His fingers fumbled a little to twist off the cap, a sick and slow panic boiling in his chest. He turned the bottle and tapped one, two, three pills into his palm. He stared at them blindly, grinding his teeth. Then he tapped out four, five. Six. 

 _Okay, that's enough_ , he thought to himself, popping the handful into his mouth. He spun the cap back on and shoved the bottle as far to the back of the cabinet as he could, then put a little water in the bottom of a glass and tossed it back. The pills slid like cold punishment down his throat. 

But this was fine. This was good. This was what he deserved, for screwing up today, and everyday. 

He dropped the glass carefully into the sink and trudged to the bedroom, blinking back a heady fear. 

Because this was okay. This was right. 

And later that night, when he woke up with the sticky residue of chemicals on his breath, he turned over and closed his eyes again. 

Because this was normal. 

\---

The next morning Harry felt groggy and sluggish, and absolutely like skipping work. He rolled over to watch Niall snoring in the next bed, an arm slung carelessly over his eyes. It brought a little cheer to his lips, and he wiped sleep crust from his clumped lashes before sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He supposed if he went to work, maybe he could get Susan to bake him his bad-day chocolate chip cookies. She had a special recipe saved just for his low moments. 

He carefully stood, popping cricks out of his back and wincing. He really should see a chiropractor, but it was too much hassle in all honesty. Besides, his money supply was often too short for such a luxury. 

Slowly, he made his way to his small closet, the wood floor chill beneath his bare toes. He tried to swallow away the lingering flavor of pills in his throat, but he knew it never actually disappeared. No matter how many glasses of water he downed, the feeling of capsules catching against the roof of his mouth would always accompany them. Probably because it had become just a force of habit. If Niall asked him to grab some alcohol from the fridge, he'd pour himself a cocktail too. If it was his turn to cook, the first ingredient he'd grab was a handful of pills. And while the taste was repulsive, the dizzy numb that he floated on for hours afterward was enough of a reason to keep it up. When he was thoughtless, worries couldn't multiply. 

Yawning, he wiped a hand over his face, simultaneously pushing his reflections away. It was too early to be pitying himself. He slid open the closet door, then gazed dumbly at the empty hanger that swung in between his various articles of casual attire. 

"Bloody hell," he cursed under his breath.

He'd left his uniform in the back of Louis' car. And while Susan really wouldn't mind if he came into work with no uniform, his main worry was the fact that Louis would probably come to the store again to bring it to him. Which was unacceptable-- he did  _not_ want to see Louis today. Or ever again, for that matter. 

He let out a tortured groan and let his forehead bang against the door. Behind him, sheets rustled, and he closed his eyes against the guilty realization that he'd woken Niall. 

"Ey Haz, what's wrong?" Niall asked, the question rough with hoarse morning voice. 

"Nothing Niall. Go back to sleep."

"Ughh, it'll be impossible to now," Niall complained, making Harry snort.

"Yeah right. The minute you close your eyes in any situation, you drop off like someone knocked you over the head."

"Shut up, wanker," Niall replied, and Harry felt a plush thump against his back. 

"Don't throw pillows at me while I'm moping," Harry scolded, and smiled warmly at the sound of Niall's happy laugh. 

"Want me to make you brekkie?" Niall offered, already shuffling in preparation for getting up.

Harry sighed and pulled a pair of worn black jeans and a Rolling Stones tee from the closet before turning to shake his head at Niall, "Thanks, but I'll just grab something at work I guess." 

Niall squinted his eyes, his ruddy cheeks relaxing as his ever-present smile lowered, "Mate, you look like shit. You should call in today. Susan would understand. Or, I could always charm her into understanding," he winked.

Harry gave him an amused smile, "I think she's grown immune to your charms, unfortunately. And besides, I need the money. I'll be fine."

"Better take something then. You're white as a sheet." 

Harry fought the anxiety that threatened to overcome his expression. Niall didn't know what impact that simple phrase held. He was oblivious to Harry's deepest secrets, and Harry would do everything in his power to keep it that way. Niall worried about him enough, too much really.

Instead of agreeing, he walked to the bedroom door and smiled reassuringly at Niall, "Go back to sleep. I'll see you later."

"Yeah," Niall said with an unsatisfied frown, "Get out of here, make some money. And  _take care of yourself_." 

"Right-o," Harry saluted with two fingers, then headed into the hallway. 

Behind him, Niall called, "Oh, and one more thing! Stop making assumptions to keep yourself from getting attached!" 

Harry swallowed hard, then headed to the kitchen, thinking maybe he'd follow Niall's previous suggestion after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, that was a struggle to finish... I hope someone enjoyed it, it was hell for me. Anyway, um, there's still a tumblr floating around out there that happens to be minnnee (ijusthaventmetniallyet) oops. Tell me if my writing is good or bad, or just say whaddup.


	5. You Can Throw Away The Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis apologizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, half of this was kind of rushed, and it's mostly fluff. Of course. Seriously I suck at this bUT, anyway, here it is, enjoy! xx

Louis never showed.

When Harry had walked in uniform-less, Susan had simply quirked an eyebrow and a smile.

“Had a little too much fun last night, hmm?”

The pained expression she received after that was enough to pull out the crumpled chocolate chip cookie recipe.

She had let him work in the back that day, with Lou out front selling the merchandise. The baking helped him to forget. The aspirin kept him from remembering.

At closing time, Lou poked her head into the kitchen cautiously.

“Hey Harry,” she said, her voice careful, “Thought you might want to know your cute friend didn't come in. In case you were wondering.”

And Harry felt a strange disappointment wash over him.

Of course, he'd been hoping Louis wouldn't show. He didn't know how he could face him again after the tragedy of yesterday. But then again...

No. There was no 'then again.' Because Harry didn't deserve to see Louis' shining smile and promise-filled eyes. He didn't deserve to break Louis' heart.

There were a few cookies left, so he gathered them up off the pan and found a baggie to put them in. Susan breezed into the room, but didn't say anything. He could still feel her worried glances, though.

“I'm gonna head out,” he said loudly, breaking the awful tense silence.

“Alright,” she replied, busying her hands with putting away leftover goods, “See you tomorrow Harry. Take care dear.”

He was walking out when she stopped him with a soft, “and..”

“And what?” he asked, turning.

“Nevermind,” she said, shaking her head as though annoyed with herself.

“No, tell me Suze. And what?”

“Just...” she stilled her movements and looked at him, her eyes sorrowful, “I think of you as a son, Haz. You're my baby. I want you to know that if you ever need to talk about anything, I'll be here to listen. Okay?”

He hesitated for a moment, then walked over and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

“I love you Susan,” he murmured into her hair.

“Love you too, Harry,” she replied, but her voice cracked a bit.

He pulled away and strode back to the door, giving her a wave as he exited, “See you tomorrow.”

Lou gave him a cautious smile when he walked through the lobby. He smiled back cheerily, hoping she would stop worrying about him. Hoping everyone would stop worrying about him. He wasn't worth their time.

The front door gave an impatient little ding when it slammed into his back after he stopped just outside the bakery. To his left, a figure was sat cross-legged on the ground, hunched over, their body just under the windows of the bakery. Soft waves of caramel hair fluttered in the curling wind, and pale fingers were clenched tightly to a bundle of pink cloth lying neatly folded in their lap.

They looked up at the noise, and Harry was once again caught by electric baby blues.

“Hey,” Louis said, his voice hesitant but hopeful as he carefully stood.

Harry stayed quiet, watching this man, his blood rushing warmer at the thought that he had been waiting for him. Louis took his silence as a bad sign, apparently, because he frowned a little, and Harry decided he never wanted to see that disappointed shadow cross such a face ever again.

“I brought your uniform,” Louis tried again, holding the apron and hat out to Harry like they were precious jewels.

“Have you been out here all day?” Harry asked, then realized how stupid the question was. Why the hell would Louis sit out here on the cold cement all day just to give him back his uniform? It wasn't like everyone else was as void of a social life as himself. Besides, after his treatment of Louis yesterday, he was surprised the man was here at all.

But Louis shuffled his feet sheepishly before replying, “Sort of.”

Harry flutter-blinked in surprise, his pulse quickening.

“Why didn't you just come inside?”

“I didn't know if you'd want to see me,” he dropped his outstretched arms, staring down at the bundle, his face stiff.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. It was true, though, he hadn't wanted to see him. But now that he was here...

“I like seeing you, though.”

Louis looked up, his brow furrowed, but a smile grew warily on his lips, “I like seeing you too. You're very pretty.”

Harry blushed and turned his gaze to his uniform, gesturing toward it, “You can hand me that now, if you'd like.”

“Oh,” Louis said, passing it to him.

Harry stuffed it under his arm, then remembered the bag of cookies in his hand. He opened the top and held it out to Louis, “Cookie?”

“Chocolate chip?” Louis asked as he took one.

“Yes.”

“I eat these when I'm sad,” Louis mumbled around a bite, his eyes closing for a moment in bliss.

Harry stared, and replied under his breath, “Me too.”

Louis's eyelids shot open, and then they just stood there for a while as he chewed, both of them unsure how to continue.

“Harry, I,” Louis started, then looked away. Harry waited. He knew sometimes lips moved before brains thought. It was a human flaw.

Louis turned back, but kept his gaze downward, “I'm sorry about last night,” he shook his head, bringing a hand to his forehead, “I don't know what I was thinking, I just..”

He sighed and glanced up. Harry nodded, willing him to go on.

“I really like you Harry. But I don't know you. And you don't know me. I mean, did I ever even tell you my last name?”

Harry shook his head, smiling.

Louis scoffed at himself, then tilted his head, giving Harry a what-can-you-do look, “It's Tomlinson.”

“That's nice,” Harry whispered.

“Thanks,” and for a moment, he just gazed fondly. Then he went on, “Anyway, um, the point is.. the point is I'd like to get to know you better. As a mate, I mean. I feel like we could be good mates. Am I making any sense? I feel like I'm just talking shit.”

“No, I get you,” Harry said lowly. Inside, he was buzzing like a million bees were traveling through his bloodstream, looking for something sweet. Perhaps yesterday had been a mistake, but didn't mistakes happen when you weren't prepared? And Harry definitely wasn't prepared for Louis. He doubted he ever would be, when every smile and glance set a fire burning in his organs. But Louis was right. Getting to know someone was just a friendly thing. He could try to be mates with Louis, and still back out if things got too involved. No one hurt, no hearts broken, no commitments.

“I think...” he said slowly, “I think that sounds like a good plan.”

“Plan?” Louis said, smirking, “What are we, Sherlock and Watson?”

“Right,” Harry replied seriously, “I'm Sherlock and you're Watson.”

“Come now,” Louis reproached, crossing his arms over his chest, “I think we both know who the real leader here is.”

“Me?” Harry asked innocently, widening his eyes.

Louis' pursed lips proved he was fighting laughter, “The day you lead me anywhere will be the day I become queen of England.”

“You'd actually be a very good queen,” Harry smirked.

“So you agree I'm the leader then?” Louis shot back, pointing a finger and raising his eyebrow in defiance.

Harry groaned. He hadn't seen that one coming.

“Alriiight,” he drawled, “You're Sherlock and I'm Watson.”

“Of course,” Louis quipped, tipping his chin up, but he tilted his head and grinned, “Though, really, you'd look better with the trench coat and top hat.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Harry couldn't keep the laughter from cutting off the end of his sentence, bursting out of his mouth like a popping bubble of gum.

“Harrryy!” Louis protested, but he fell against the taller boy, his fists curling against Harry's chest as his tiny body shook.

Harry put his hand on Louis' shoulder, showing that he approved of the closeness, and beneath his skin, muscles released previous tension. So Louis was being careful. Harry wasn't sure if he appreciated the gesture, or hated the fact that Louis felt he had to be cautious.

Louis ceased his laughter and his eyelids fluttered upward, long lashes framing a comforting gaze.

Harry smiled down at him, “Give me a ride home?”

Louis nodded, “'Course.”

He stepped back and began to pull a keyring from his pocket, then hesitated.

“Um... I don't have the nice car anymore,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head and looking away, “So, it's, well it's my real car now. A shitty piece of junk. I hope you don't mind.”

Harry shrugged, “Niall and I share a car, so it can't be as shitty as that one.”

Glancing back, Louis' expression was curious, “Your roommate's name is Niall then?”

“Yup,” Harry said slowly, “Niall Horan.”

“Sounds familiar,” Louis hummed as he turned and began to walk, his scuffed Converse patting crisply against the sidewalk.

Harry caught up easily with his long strides, the clicks of his boot heels fitting in between.

“Think you know him?” he asked, transferring his bag of cookies to his other hand, and stuffing the free one into a pocket.

Louis tilted his head slightly, “Maybe. But then, I know a lot of people.”

Harry's heart dropped a little. Of course he did, he was probably adored by thousands. And who wouldn't adore Louis Tomlinson, the curvy boy with starry eyes? To Louis, Harry was probably just another face in the crowd.

Then again, did Louis often wait all day for just any face?

Too confused and flustered to be bothered, Harry shook the thoughts from his head, then played the action off by pulling away a few curls that fell in his face. Louis glanced at him and smiled.

“I love you hair,” he said, looking at it in fascination.

Harry grinned, “You can touch it if you want. I know it's fabulous.”

Louis rolled his eyes, “Bit conceited, aren't we?” but reached out a hand, at first hesitant, and then rushed, nervous. When his fingertips touched curls, they were gentle, carefully teasing at the hair strands, sliding smoothly across them.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

 _Yes, you are_ , Harry thought with a hard swallow, but said, “You're not some crazy stalker-stripper are you? Like, 'cause maybe next thing I know I'll find out you've cut off a lock of my hair and keep it in a plastic baggie.”

“Don't worry, I'm only planning to make a wig from it to use during my routines,” Louis said with a wink.

“Makes me feel quite safe,” Harry replied, which brought a laugh from Louis' cherry-red mouth.

When they reached the car, a quaint little sedan with light scratches down the passenger door and a string of shells hanging from the rearview mirror, Louis' face scrunched in distaste.

“It's a mess,” he muttered apologetically, but Harry shook his head.

“I think it's nice. Lived in,” Harry tapped the door with a finger and smiled, “Now let me in.”

Louis stuck his tongue out at him petulantly, but the locks clicked open. They worked together to remove articles of clothing, fast-food residue, and empty Tesco bags from the seat so Harry could sit. They both slid into their respective sides at the same time, but Louis had to reach over Harry's lap to help him close the door.

“You kind of have to slam it,” he huffed as the car shook with the force of the door locking into place.

“Right,” Harry said, his voice a little strangled from fighting giggles.

Louis slid him a reproachful knowing look, but busied himself by getting his iPod Classic hooked up to the car's sound system. He began to scroll through songs until Harry's fingers brushed lightly over the back of his hand. He looked up, his brows furrowed.

“Let me choose the song this time?” Harry murmured, widening his eyes.

Louis narrowed his own, but he was smiling, “Sure. But this is the only time your puppy eyes will work on me.”

“We'll see about that,” Harry whispered seriously as he took the iPod, staring diligently at the screen, and Louis laughed.

He had to admit, he snooped a little while looking for a song. He went to Louis' playlists and scrolled through them, reading the names silently. Louis had one for work, one for sleep, one for crying, one for partying... one for nearly every mood. It made Harry smile, a fuzzy affection tickling his ribs. He wanted to go through every single list, hearing Louis' thoughts, feelings, spirit through his music.

At the bottom, there was a playlist titled with only a single word: “Strong.” He clicked the center button, curious. He recognized a few of the songs, most of them he remembered being upbeat and fast-paced. Perhaps songs for moments of motivation? He stopped the highlighted line on one titled “Elastic Heart,” thinking it sounded familiar.

When the song began to play, the wrinkles under Louis' eyes softened, and the corners of his mouth upturned gently. Harry dropped the iPod in his lap and turned his head to watch buildings pass by, bricks blurring into red and brown streaks against a sunset orange sky.

“Why do you work at a bakery?” Louis suddenly asked, startling Harry.

“What?”

“Well, you asked why I do my job,” he shrugged, “I just wanted to know why you do yours.”

Harry blinked and scratched at the bridge of his nose, considering his answer.

“Well, erm,” he wiped his fingertips across his lips before dropping his hand, “It's kind of a temporary thing. Sort of.”

Louis glanced at him, his forehead scrunched cutely in confusion, “Sort of?”

Harry sighed, “While I was in college, I worked at the bakery to pay it off. Then I graduated, and I... I have a Bachelor's degree, could work in a record label if I wanted. I just haven't really done it yet.”

Louis' eyes were wide with surprise when he met Harry's this time, “A record label? You serious? That's fucking sick. You really should jump on that mate. Get in.”

Harry turned his gaze back out the window, “Yeah. Maybe I will.”

But inside Harry knew he'd never be able to face the interviews: the steepled fingers over the sleek black desks, the thick, judging eyebrows. Anxious goosebumps prickled on his skin at the thought. The interview for the bakery hadn't been too hard. Susan had been as sweet as sugar, as usual, and plus she knew his mum. It had been like asking his nan for a summer job or something-- casual and certain.

With a record label, it would be serious, picking him apart and finding every single one of his flaws. He hated that. He pinched a knuckle roughly, forcing back the sick suffocating panic that swelled under his lungs. Not here, not now.

Louis, thankfully, broke into his thoughts, clearing the clouds that had begun to form.

“I've- ah- always wanted to sing,” he confessed, his voice careful.

“Really? Makes sense. You've got an incredible voice,” Harry replied, hoping Louis could hear the sincerity in the statement.

A blush rose on his cheeks, “No, it's.. it's not that great.”

“Yeah, it really is. Like if I owned my own record label, I'd sign you,” Harry looked at him, wanting to see his reaction.

Joy sparked in his eyes, and he glanced happily at Harry, “That means a lot mate.”

“You're welcome,” Harry replied with a smirk.

They went silent, which upset Harry. Silence brought fear and worry. He wanted conversation. He wanted Louis' smooth tenor easing his nerves.

“Do you play any instruments?” he asked.

Louis nodded, “Piano, and trying to learn guitar.”

“Oh yeah, that one's difficult, innit? We had to take guitar classes in school. I struggled,” He laughed it off, but his mind brought up unwanted images of standing in front of a class, embarrassment burning the hair off his arms as his fingers fumbled over strings-- the panic attacks that came afterward, when he was huddled uncomfortably on a toilet seat in the stall furthest from the bathroom door.

“Difficult is an understatement,” Louis agreed, laughing a little himself. Harry wondered if he would still be laughing if he could see the scene Harry was watching. Thankfully, he couldn't, because Harry didn't want to know the answer to that question. Ignorance, as they say, is bliss.

“Maybe I could teach you what I know,” Harry felt the response leave his lips before he'd fully thought it through. Teach Louis? What kind of a teacher would he be? A horrible one, that's what.

But the excitement that brightened Louis' smile made his throat close against his inhibitions.

“I think that would be fantastic,” Louis remarked, just as they pulled up to the ivy-covered flat building Harry belonged to.

Harry looked at it's dusty windows with a sinking feeling. Now he had to go and sit in an empty flat alone, with only his constant negativity to keep him company. Wonderful.

“Yeah, well, we'll have to set up the dates. Just let me know when would be best for you,” he said to Louis, turning to give him a smile, hoping it didn't seem too forced.

“Sounds great. I will,” Louis replied, and Harry tried not to assume that that was disappointment at Harry's departure folding creases into his forehead.

"Here, hand me your phone," Louis said suddenly, reaching out his hand.

Harry hesitated, then pulled the slim device from his pocket and dropped it in the outstretched palm. He watched Louis' thumbs tap quickly across his screen, then the phone was passed back. 

Louis smiled, "Now you have my number. Use it wisely." 

Harry laughed and put his hand on the door handle, “Okay. Well, I'll uh.. see you around Louis.”

“Tomlinson. Don't forget,” Louis admonished falsely, and Harry grinned.

“Right. Louis Tomlinson. Who could forget a name like that?”

“Get out of here, Watson,” Louis said, his sternness lost in a fond look.

“Right-o, Sherlock,” and he did, stepping out onto the sidewalk with his arms full of clothes and cookies. Louis just stared back at him, a smile ghosting on his lips. Music still poured from the speakers, spilling out onto the street, dripping into Harry's open ears.

_No baby, this is not an illusion_

_You've really got me lifted off my feet_

_So tell me you believe in love_

_'Cause it's not an illusion to me_

“See you around Louis,” Harry repeated, his voice softer this time.

“Definitely,” Louis answered, and Harry's heart swelled at the certainty in that word.

_Oh baby this is not an illusion_

_There's magic between you and me_

Definitely.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from Illusion by One Direction, of course. It was hard to get this chapter finished after all the crap I had to go through this week, what with the Zayn thing, and then I got my first ever ticket, and I've been so freaking depressed it's not even funny. But I got this done, so I hope someone likes it! Thanks to you!


	6. It Will Never Change (Me and You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry remembers Niall loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm sorry this is late. We had to put my nearly 10-year-old dog to sleep on Thursday after a rather hectic week. It was kind of the final slam after a month of shit after shit after shit hitting the fan for me, and basically I've been in this really deep hole that I wasn't sure I'd make it out of. Really it's amazing I'm still here. BUT, I am, so here we go, onto the next chapter of this crapshoot, hope you guys enjoy it!

"Hazza."

Niall's smooth baritone cut through an airy, fuzzy dream echoing with Louis' laughter. The dream was bright blue and felt as comfortable as a hot cuppa in the palms of his hands. He irritatedly brushed Niall's shoving hands away, mumbling something incoherent about good tea.

"Harrryy, wake up you slob. I want to hang out with you."

Niall shook him again, and the dream began to fade into black and white crackles which danced on thin, full lips. He reached out for them, but his fingertips only brushed rough cloth. He opened his eyes tiredly and found himself staring at the crotch of Niall's khaki shorts. He twisted his mouth in disappointment and pinched the inside of Niall's thigh, only slightly laughing at the resulting yelp that accompanied an instinctive step away.

"Don't be a cunt," Niall huffed before plopping himself onto the top of their small wooden coffee table, the thin legs trembling a little under his sudden weight.

"You're the cunt, waking me from such a lovely dream," Harry responded shortly while pushing himself into a sitting position. He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced as it caught on matted tangles of curls.

Niall sighed and crossed his arms, looking as though he was preparing himself for a colonoscopy, "Alright, then, Haz. What was it about?"

Harry blinked sleepily, the question not fully registering until a few seconds later. Then the dream flooded back, filled with crinkly-eyed smiles and long lashes, and perhaps a very short part involving a lean, tanned stomach and a silver pole. He usually did tell Niall about dreams that he liked, because he had so few of them. But he couldn't tell him about this one, oh no. That would be very, very bad.

"Oh, ah," he fumbled, trying to come up with something believable, "There was a puppy. Yeah, and a big house and umm... you were there, of course. And me, I was there. And there was this big field of grass that we were running through with the puppy. So yeah, it's obviously a sign that we need to buy a big house and a puppy."

He nodded matter-of-factly, but Niall seemed skeptical, and the look on his face was making Harry's blood pressure rise by a couple of notches. Niall continued to give him that look for a few minutes, then narrowed his eyes, and Harry ignored the urge to suck in a breath.

"You sure that dream wasn't about Louis?"

Harry slumped, "Well, I don't think so, I'm pretty sure it--"

"No, see, the puppy symbolizes Louis, and us running with the puppy symbolizes that we should accept Louis into our group. Yeah! There you go Harry, so now you  _have_ to like him. The dream decrees it," smugness twisted Niall's lips into a light smirk. 

Harry smiled in relief. He didn't really agree with Niall's interpretation of his made-up dream (mostly because he really wanted a puppy), but at least it was much better than what the turnout would have been if he had poured out the details of his true dream. 

"Whatever you say Ni," he replied, slouching back down into the couch and closing his eyes, "I'll get back into it, see what happens, and let you know."

"No!" Niall shouted, then flinched when the neighbor next door banged on the wall, a muffled protest drifting through the thin plaster and making Harry break his fake-sleep with a giggle. 

"No," Niall tried again, quieter, as he suddenly threw himself on top of Harry, "Wake up you wanker, let's go skating or summat." 

Harry groaned under Niall's dead-weight, "Get off, fatass, I can't breathe," he shoved at the body uselessly, "I'll give you a purplenurple if you don't, I'm not even joking." 

"Say we'll hang out."

"Get off first."

"No."

"Fiiine, Niall, I'll hang out with you," Harry's laugh was strained, and he smacked Niall's chest with the flat of his hand, "Now get off!"

Niall grinned and rolled off him, falling heavily onto the floor, and letting out a whoop of excitement (mixed with maybe a little pain). 

Harry sat up, smirking, "I'll go get the skateboards."  

He made sure to use Niall as a stepping stone on the way, chuckling brightly at the pained moan that was left in his wake. 

When he returned from the closet where they kept their battered but treasured boards, Niall was magically in a completely different outfit- skinnies and a muscle tank- and was tightening the laces on his skate shoes. Harry stopped in his tracks and furrowed his brow, glancing between Niall and the pile of his previous clothes.

Niall looked up, unaffected, "What?" 

"How did you-" Harry shook his head. There was no point in questioning Niall Horan's quirks. He was a mysterious boy. 

"Nevermind." 

"Whatever bro," Niall replied, reaching out a hand for his board, making child-like grabbing motions with his fingers.

Harry tossed it to him, and Niall easily snatched it from the air as he stood. Harry held his own board in both hands and stared at it as they walked out, wishing, not for the first time, that he was as coordinated as everyone else.

The sky was a deep indigo when they stepped out of the building and into the cool breeze. The breath of air was a welcome respite from the thick humidity that made their shirts cling to their abdomens. Niall dropped his board with a clatter and jumped onto it, kicking off into a quick roll. Harry followed suit, swaying a little when he pulled his right foot up onto the board. Once he was balanced, though, he rode with ease, snaking across the sidewalk behind Niall. It had taken him many years of practice and help from the Irish lad, but skating was something he was actually pretty good at, and it always filled him with a heady joy, perhaps just at the thrill of it. 

They were quiet for the first few minutes, simply enjoying the familiar rush of wind, the rough motion beneath their feet. Niall pulled out his phone and scrolled along the screen for a bit, and then a tinny version of Can't Hold Us floated back to Harry, who grinned and gave another push, bringing himself alongside the blonde. When Niall glanced at him, he put his hands in the air and did a little shimmy, making Niall crack up. Then Niall sped up and skidded around the front of Harry's board, doing a 180 ollie at the last minute to get himself facing the right way again.

Niall rode goofy, with his right foot forward. It wasn't a surprise to Harry-- Niall did everything different. When everyone else zigged left, Niall zagged right. And when everyone else left Harry, Niall stayed right with him. He was a strange man. Harry loved him for it. 

"I challenge you to a trick war," Niall shot to Harry, putting his fists on his hips.

Harry grinned, "Or Horse?"

Niall dropped his hands, "Aw, mate, I suck at Horse!"

"Exactly."

"You're rude as hell," Niall rebuked, flashing Harry a moody look.

"I'll let you go first?" Harry replied innocently.

"You always think that'll make me feel better, and then you still win," Niall said, eyes narrowed, but he shook his head in defeat, "Fine, fine, we'll play your little game."

He skated on ahead and started with a grind along the curb into an ollie. Harry mirrored the move easily, though it still felt a slightly messy-- it really had been too long since they'd done this. Niall grinned at him and did a kickflip, then an ollie that went into a pop shuvit. 

"Really? That's it?" Harry scoffed, doing all three tricks in quick succession.

Niall rolled his eyes, "Right, I forgot I was riding with Tony Hawk." 

Harry smirked, then burst into laughter when Niall fudged a frontside flip. 

Niall glared at him, "Well go on, set a trick then Tony." 

Harry skated around Niall and went into a boardslide along the curb before hopping back onto the sidewalk with an ollie into a pop shuvit before ending with an inward heelflip. He looked back at Niall challengingly. The blonde simply shook his head with a sigh before attempting the feat. 

He lost it at the end of the pop shuvit. Not only did it not help that it was dark out now, but his balance was just a little off when he'd gone into it, and it got worse, so that by the time he started the inward heelflip he was dropping like a stone. Harry couldn't help the laughter that poured from his lungs, even though Niall was shouting various curses in his direction as the lad's knees scraped harshly against the pavement. 

Harry dropped onto his board, clutching his stomach. Niall picked a rock out of the gutter that he'd fallen face-first into and threw it at Harry. It glanced off Harry's shoulder with a sharp sting, but he still couldn't stop the flow of laughter. 

"It's not funnyy," Niall moaned, pulling himself dramatically to his fallen board and flopping over it so that his arms and chin rested on the deck. He glared with icy eyes at his friend, but his smile betrayed his true feelings, "You're such a dick, Haz. I don't know why I always give in to your charms." 

Harry eased off into giggles, tilting his head to grin at Niall, who pouted back. 

"Do you love me Niall?" he cooed, fluttering his eyelashes.

"How can you even ask such a question?" Niall retorted, scowling, his cheeks ruddy. 

"Dooo you love me Niall?" Harry repeated, crossing his ankles and flipping his curls with a smile.

Niall let out a sigh and rolled his eyes, "Yes, I love you, you bloody sod." 

Harry chuckled, then shifted so that he was laying with the back of his head on his board, staring up at the stars beginning to sparkle out like rhinestones on deep velvet. He wished he could reach up and feel that softness under his calloused hands, gather stars in his palms and sprinkle them over his favourite people. Like Niall. And Louis. 

Niall watched him warmly, pulling his arms up to cross them under his chin.

"I've missed this, you know," he said, his voice soft. 

Harry glanced at him, the corners of his lips turning up, "Yeah. Me too." 

"Remember when we used to skate at home?"

"Yup."

"And you broke your arm grinding on that stair rail?" 

Harry laughed, adjusting his position a little, "Uh-huh. I still don't know how you never broke anything, since you're the one always falling." 

"I broke my pinky that one time!" Niall protested, and Harry snorted.

"Ooo, you poor baby." 

"It hurt!"

"So do shots, but we all have to grow up and take those."

"Yeah, in the fucking club," and then Niall began to whoop until someone in a nearby building yelled "Shut up!" out a window. 

Harry fought giggles at the blush that took over his friend's face. Niall looked at him again and smirked.

"I think skating was the only thing you ever challenged the limits in," Niall said, flicking a small rock with his fingernail. They both watched it soar out onto the street as Harry considered his answer.

"I guess skating lets me take out my anger or summat," Harry finally said, shrugging, feeling the grip-tape scrape against his arms. 

"Sometimes I forget you have anger and sadness and all that," Niall admitted, now scratching at a pockmark in the cement, "Like, I guess you always put on this happy face, and when I'm in a rush I don't look past it. But you know..."

He paused, his eyes glancing across Harry's taut face.

"I  _do_ notice. When you're sad, I mean. And you're sad a lot." 

Harry supposed he expected this to come up. Niall was the most observant person he'd ever known. Those bright blue eyes were microscopes, zooming in on every freckle that dotted Harry's cheeks, pulling information from every twitch of his eyebrows. He'd always known it would be impossible to hide from Niall. He'd known it when they'd first made their friendship pact on his porch all those years ago, smearing sticky peanut butter on each other's hands and then licking it off (Niall's idea) before shaking, firmly sealing their bond. Yet he was still surprised by just how much Niall caught onto. 

He decided he really wasn't ready to talk about this yet. It was too deep and dark a subject. It would take their happy time together and wrap it up in a smoke cloud, suffocating the joy they'd finally found in their hectic lives. 

"Why'd you choose that club?" he blurted. Of course the first thing that came to his mind was something to do with Louis. It seemed like Louis was all he thought about these days. 

"Huh?" Niall responded, confused at the sudden turn in the conversation.

"The club we went to the other night. Why that one? There are plenty of gay clubs in London," Harry rolled his head to the side so he could watch Niall's reaction. 

"Oh!" Niall said, and barked out a laugh, "Oh, well. The other day these two mates came into the shop, both looking for tuxedos. Simon told me to help them, so I went over and asked if they needed tuxes for a wedding. They said yes, their own. They were holding hands and smiling and looked so  _happy_ , Haz."

"Niall," Harry said condescendingly, but his eyes were curious and bright, "What does this have to do with the club?"

"I'm getting there!" Niall admonished haughtily, "Don't get your panties in a wad."

"Well get on with it then!"

"I will!" Niall retorted in a miffed tone, then adjusted his arms and cleared his throat.

" _Anyway_ , I chatted with them while we picked out the tuxes, asked them how they met. Turns out, one is the bartender at that club, and the other is a stripper! Fancy that, ey mate? So I told them about how I had a friend that was struggling with his sexuality and-" _  
_

"You  _told_ them about me?" Harry squeaked, his face reddening. 

"Well I didn't tell them your name, you dope," Niall reassured sharply, "Now let me finish my story, will you?"

"Finish it," Harry huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Niall rolled his eyes, then went on, "Like I was saying, I told them about  _a friend_ , and asked how I would get him to be okay with how he feels. The bartender, Liam I think was his name, said, and I quote, 'The best thing for me was being surrounded by others confident in themselves.' And I thought, that's it! Harry needs to go to a gay club when he comes out. I figured theirs was probably the best choice, since they looked pretty confident in their nice new tuxes that  _I_ handpicked." 

He blinked at Harry and gave him a half-smile, "To be honest, I didn't even know Louis was a stripper there, or that he'd be the one working that night. I figured it would be the other guy, Zayn I think he was called. He was a nice lad, real striking face too. The face of a model. You would've liked him."

 _Not as much as Louis_ , the thought popped into Harry's mind unbidden, and Harry swallowed it back. Now he was comparing strangers to a man he barely knew. This was probably getting a little out of control. 

"You know," Niall muttered, scrubbing a hand through his unruly blonde scruff, "I was hoping you'd enjoy it. I thought maybe I could get you to open up to someone other than me, maybe to get a real snog or two."

He sighed, frowning, "In all of that, I forgot about your claustrophobia stuff. How much you don't like clubs. I'm sorry, Haz. I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." 

Harry felt his heart swell, and he reached out to grab one of Niall's hands, squeezing it tightly as he smiled. 

"You don't have to apologize to me for anything Niall. All you ever think of is everyone else's happiness. I'm lucky to have you as a friend. I couldn't ask for a better one." 

Niall looked at him with a wide smile, his eyes soft, "Thanks mate. And same to you. I hope I never lose you." 

Harry felt like someone had just dunked him in ice water. He'd never expected simple words to hit him so hard. He rolled off his skateboard and pulled Niall into a tight hug, squeezing his eyes shut. Niall might have the vision of a hawk, but Harry doubted he realized just how close he was to losing his friend everyday. Harry wished he could take Niall's words and paint them on his wall, a reminder that someone cared.

Inside, though, he knew, Niall shouldn't care. Because all Harry had ever done, and would ever do, is cause problems. For Niall, for Louis... for everyone. Really, he would be better off lost.  _They_  would be better off with him lost. And that was all that mattered.

Yet, when they got home and Niall asked Harry to bring him a beer, he didn't grab a handful of pills for himself. Because sometimes Niall knew just what to say, even though he didn't realize just what he was saying. 

That night they both drank till they were laughing at the stupidest things, like the faces people made on the late-night reruns of game shows. As the hands of the clock wound slowly around the face, Harry was reminded time and time again why Niall was so great-- his jokes, his smile, his ability to hold his liquor. 

It was three a.m. when they ran out of beer, and they made up for it by pulling out the fancy bottle of wine Niall had been saving for a future date. He protested only a little. They poured it generously into coffee mugs, and neither of them really noticed when some spilled on the countertops, leaving large red splotches that matched the ones growing on the apples of Niall's cheeks. They challenged each other to a chug war, which Harry very quickly lost. Niall ripped his pants off in victory. 

At a quarter to four, they were dancing drunkenly around their tight living room, tripping over various items and laughing loudly. Then they got a call from the flat manager, asking them to 'please tone it down, the neighbors are trying to sleep.' So they pulled a dusty board game from the top shelf of their closet and tried to play quietly. Their stifled giggles became a battle of pelted game pieces. Then they decided to play the always fun game of 'text-the-first-person-in-your-contacts.'

Harry didn't have many contacts, so the name that ended up at the top was Louis'. He eagerly tapped the name and typed recklessly, his reason, sluggish with alcohol, unable to keep up with his thought process.

_can u be rented??? niall nd i r party ing, bring urr pole_

He laughed at himself as he hit send, and then his phone buzzed with a new text from Niall.

_ey dickface, y are u the frst person in my contactss list_

Harry replied with a kissing emoji, which sent them both into fits of laughter. They dropped heavily onto the couch, clutching each other, Harry burying his nose into the crook of Niall's neck and feeling the fluff of Niall's hair brush his own. The TV became a drone behind their sudden whispered voices, and the cushions underneath them felt like clouds. 

Carefully, slowly, they began to drift, but their hands still gripped elbows, and when they fell, they fell together, their dreams colliding on the way down. 

At half past five, they were curled around each other in a snoring lump, and Harry's phone lit up with a text.

Louis' reply of " _you're a silly drunk texter, love_ " flashed onto the screen, then disappeared into black when Harry's sleep-stilled hands formed no reply.  

In Harry's dreams he heard Niall saying over and over, "I hope I never lose you." 

And then Louis' face appeared, and Niall's voice became his own, so that he was telling those blue eyes, bright like the velvet sky stars, that same simple phrase.

"I hope I never lose you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short, but literally I wrote this in the span of maybe 3 hours. It's mostly fluff and probably riddled with mistakes, but I hope you all enjoyed it anyway. Remember to hit me up on my tumblr (which is now liveforot5, if you type in my old url it will provide a link to redirect you to it), and keep posting comments, even if they are corrections. They really do motivate me more than you could ever know. Thanks! xx


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